The look of joy upon the face of the girl amply repaid the father for his kindly words.
“Ke-ne-ha-ha too is growing old. In years to come he will be too old to lead the Shawnee warriors to battle. His feet will be feeble upon the war-path and his sight will be dim. The Shawnees will select a new chief to lead them. Who so fit as the son-in-law of their old sachem, if Ke-ne-ha-ha lifts up his voice in his favor?”
The heart of the girl beat high with pride as she listened to the words of her father and thought of the future that looked so bright before her.
“Le-a-pah can not speak as she would, for her heart is too full.”
“Let my daughter send the young chief to me. Ke-ne-ha-ha will tell him of the service that he must attempt in order to win the flower of the Shawnee tribe.”
“It is a service of danger?” and a look of anxious fear swept over her dark face.
“If the flower is not worth the winning, no chieftain’s hand shall ever pluck it from the parent stem,” replied the father.
“The young brave will face a thousand deaths, Le-a-pah will pledge her life for it,” said the girl, promptly, and then she left the wigwam.
In a few minutes the young warrior who aspired to the hand of the great chieftain’s daughter stood within the lodge of the great chief.
Ke-ne-ha-ha cast a searching glance into the frank and open face of the young Indian. Therein he saw written both courage and skill.