A murmur went up from the crowd in echo to her words:
“It is not well, it is not well!”
“Mahaska has obeyed her people’s wishes; she has chosen a husband from among their chiefs; if the Iroquois will listen to her she will lead them on to new glory.”
“They listen and cherish her words,” returned Upepah, the old chief. “Mahaska has seen them rejoice over her coming—she knows that the hearts of our braves and our young maidens have been gladdened by her presence; let her have faith in her people. She is a great chief.”
She turned slowly toward him and lifted her face full upon him and smiled with a power of fascination which lighted up her features into wonderful beauty.
“It has been the dream of Mahaska’s life to be with her people,” she answered; “every wish in her heart has turned toward them as a young bird pines for its nest in the green leaves.”
“They have watched for her coming,” he said; “the young maidens and children have been taught to speak her name with reverence; they will come like children to hear the wisdom which she has learned among the whites.”
“Let the chiefs listen too,” she exclaimed, with the arrogance natural to her; “Mahaska has visions such as never were unfolded to their greatest prophets; she will teach them arts which will make them able to combat the cruel whites who are seeking to tread out the red-man’s footsteps from the broad lands their fathers owned.”
“The Iroquois have not had babes and cowards for their chiefs,” said the Fox, unable to keep silent, however unfit the moment to dispute her wishes, or however dangerous to himself might be the result of bringing the angry feelings between them to an issue before the council.
Mahaska scanned his lofty figure from head to foot; the smile did not leave her features, but it looked on the hardness of her face like sunlight playing over ice, and the light in her eyes deepened and grew vicious like those of a serpent just ready to spring.