Some of the surrounding warriors explained to the
old chief, that the captive was a Pawnee-Loup.
"My son opened his eyes on the 'waters of the wolves,'" said Le
Balafre, in the language of that nation, "but he will shut them in the
bend of the 'river with a troubled stream.' He was born a Pawnee, but
he will die a Dahcotah. Look at me. I am a sycamore, that once covered
many with my shadow. The leaves are fallen, and the branches begin to
drop. But a single sucker is springing from my roots; it is a little
vine, and it winds itself about a tree that is green. I have long
looked for one fit to grow by my side. Now have I found him. Le
Balafre is no longer without a son; his name will not be forgotten
when he is gone! Men of the Tetons, I take this youth into my lodge."
No one was bold enough to dispute a right, that had so often been
exercised by warriors far inferior to the present speaker, and the
adoption was listened to, in grave and respectful silence. Le Balafre
took his intended son by the arm, and leading him into the very centre
of the circle, he stepped aside with an air of triumph, in order that
the spectators might approve of his choice.
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