“Yes; and is known by the name of Smoholler!”
“Jumping Jerusalem!” exclaimed Cute, in pretended amazement, and he made a clutch at one of the horns of the antelope’s head, and twitched it dexterously away from Oneotah, revealing her white face, and luxuriant black hair.
“And there is the White Spirit!” continued Percy. “No wonder that you could persuade these ignorant Indians that she is an angel, for she is lovely enough to be one. Father, you will not deny me?”
Smoholler gave him his hand.
“No; for I am proud of such a son,” he answered. “You have penetrated my mysteries, but I care not, as I intended to reveal myself to you; but my followers must never know the deceit I have practiced upon them. I have used my chemical knowledge in the manufacture of colored fires with great effect. You have discovered who the angel was; I need scarcely tell you that the Fiend was myself. Oneotah has been my only confederate. And I am likely to lose her, for love has found his way to her heart.”
“My father, I will never desert you,” cried Oneotah. “I will still be your White Spirit, if you wish it.”
“No, Oneotah; you have served my purpose well, and now you shall reap your reward. Your lover, Multuomah, is in yonder camp, and when they return you shall go with them. My power is so well established now that I can do without my White Spirit.”
She beamed a grateful smile upon him.
“It will aid your power, father,” she cried; “for Multuomah will become your friend, and he will, one day, be the head chief of the Nez Perces.”
“True; you see how politic she is; though I must confess that such an alliance has long been one of my calculations.”