"I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have torn out my own heart, had the laws of my people required it."
The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtful tone,--
"I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she then really peril her life to save her young friend?"
"She did more," answered Black Eagle; "she was one of those prepared to go to the happy hunting-ground, with him; but I tell thee, Prevost, not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand ready to plunge it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause or hesitate. It was, that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in the words that were spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, and he changed them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to my people and thy son. I sent them forward towards the Sounding Waters, while I sought thee first at thy lodge, and then here; and I must join them, for they must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without the Black Eagle."
He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose, and stood erect, as if about to make a speech.
"There is a Blossom on the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is dear to his eyes; and thou hast a Bough on thy tree, which is dear to thee. Otaitsa is a Christian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is descended from a race of warriors, every one of whom has left a name in the hearts of his people. She is of the highest race of the highest tribe of the children of the Stone. The blood of the red man is as fine as the blood of the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great chief, and of a race as good as thine own; a race that is renowned."
Mr. Prevost bent down his head; but he knew the Indian customs too well to interrupt, and the chief went on:--
"The Blossom loves the Bough: the Bough loves the Blossom. She has purchased him; she has bought him for herself; she has offered her heart's blood for his price. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should never return from his war-flight--if the bullet of the French should break his wing, or the arrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his brother Prevost bind the Blossom and the Bough together as the white men bind them, and as the Christian people unite those who love? Will he take the Blossom to his own home, and make her indeed his daughter?"
Mr. Prevost rose, and threw his arms round the chief, saying,--
"Thou art my brother; I will do as thou hast said; and may the Good Spirit deal with me as I deal with thee in this matter! Thy daughter is my daughter; my son is thy son. But thou knowest not, perhaps----"