“Let the Shawnee brave speak; then the Great Medicine can answer,” returned the old Indian, ambiguously.
“The chief will speak,” said Ke-ne-ha-ha, decidedly. “The Wolf Demon has slain many a great brave of the Shawnee nation. He is only seen by the banks of the Scioto. He strikes only at the Shawnees. Why does not the white man’s devil kill also the Wyandot and Mingo warriors? Why does Shawnee blood alone stain the edge of his tomahawk?”
“The chief is anxious to know why?”
“Yes; can my father tell?”
“The Great Medicine of the Shawnees can tell all things, either in life or death. Let the chief open his ears, and he shall hear.”
“Ke-ne-ha-ha listens,” said the chief, curtly.
“The Wolf Demon is a white devil, and he hates the Shawnees. He does not hate the Mingo warrior or the Wyandot brave, only the Shawnee.”
“But why should he hate the warriors of Ke-ne-ha-ha?”
“Because when the Wolf Demon was on earth they did him wrong.”