"The
Wahcondah has made more of them than he has made Indians. He has not
said, This buffaloe shall be for a Pawnee, and that for a Dahcotah;
this beaver for Konza, and that for an Omawhaw. No; he said, There are
enough. I love my red children, and I have given them great riches.
The swiftest horse shall not go from the village of the Tetons to the
village of the Loups in many suns. It is far from the towns of the
Pawnees to the river of the Osages. There is room for all that I love.
Why then should a Red-man strike his brother?"
Hard-Heart dropped one end of his lance to the earth, and having also
cast his shield across his shoulder, he sat leaning lightly on the
weapon, as he answered with a smile of no doubtful expression--
"Are the Tetons weary of the hunts, and of the warpath? Do they wish
to cook the venison, and not to kill it. Do they intend to let the
hair cover their heads, that their enemies shall not know where to
find their scalps? Go; a Pawnee warrior will never come among such
Sioux squaws for a wife!"
A frightful gleam of ferocity broke out of the restraint of the
Dahcotah's countenance, as he listened to this biting insult; but he
was quick in subduing the tell-tale feeling, in an expression much
better suited to his present purpose.
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