“Let the chief steep his memory in the blood of the so-cursed white-skins and then he will forget the wrong that they have done him.”
“The chief speaks with a straight tongue,” said Black Cloud, sagely. “When Ke-ne-ha-ha goes on the war-path he will forget. The sight of this blood and the smoke of their burning dwellings will clear the cloud of sorrow from his brain. Then he will laugh, for he can show the world how the great chief of the Shawnees wipes out the memory of his wrongs.”
Ke-ne-ha-ha approaching, the two warriors put a stop to their conversation.
“The white prisoner is securely guarded?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied the Black Cloud, “three warriors guard the lodge of the pale-face.”
For a moment Ke-ne-ha-ha was silent, apparently lost in thought; then suddenly he spoke again.
“The mind of the chief is not easy—there is a load upon it—as heavy as the house the turtle carries upon his back.”
“What troubles the mind of the great chief of the Shawnee nation?” asked Noc-a-tah, respectfully.
“The chief can not tell—the shadows come upon his heart like the clouds over the moon, without warning, without reason. Ke-ne-ha-ha fears for the safety of the white prisoner; he would rather lose one of his ears than have the white foe escape. Let my warriors go with me. We will see the pale-face.”