CHAPTER VI.
THE THREE GIFTS.
“
The Black Partridge has served his white friends faithfully. He should now remember his own people, and rest his heart among them,” said the White Pelican as he rode homeward beside his chief, not many hours after the massacre of the sandhills.
The elder warrior lifted his bowed head, and regarded his nephew in sadness. His eyes had that far-away, dreamy look which was unusual among his race and had given him, at times, a strange power over his fellows. Because, unfortunately, the dreams were, after all, very practical, and the silent visions were of things that might have been averted.
“The White Pelican, also, did well. He protected those whom he wished to kill. He did it for my sake. It shall not be forgotten, though the effort was useless. The end has begun.”
The younger brave touched his fine horse impatiently, and the animal sprang forward a few paces. As he did so, the rider caught a gleam of something white skimming along the horizon line, and wondered what it might be. But he had set out to attend his chief and, curbing his mount by a strong pull, whirled about and rode back to the side of Black Partridge.
“What is the end that has begun, Man-Who-Cannot-Lie?”
“The downfall of our nations. They have been as the trees of the forest and the grasses of the prairie. The trees shall be felled and the grasses shall be cut. The white man’s hand shall accomplish both.”
“For once, the Truth-Teller is mistaken. We will wrest our lands back from the grasp of the pale-faces. We will learn their arts and conquer them with their own weapons. We will destroy their villages—few they are and widely scattered. Pouf! This morning’s work is but a show of what is yet to come. As we did then, so we will do in the future. I, too, would go with my tribe to that other fort far beyond the Great Lake. I would help again to wipe away these usurpers from our homes, as I wipe—this, from my horse’s flank. Only my promise to remain with my chief and my kinsman prevents.”