“Why have you made her think she is your daughter?” asked Percy.
“Because I wanted something to love me; my heart was not satisfied with being feared alone,” answered the Prophet, feelingly. “I found her in the power of a brutal savage, and saved her from the degrading fate of becoming his wife. I saw by her face that she was the child of white parents, and so I claimed her as mine.”
Oneotah looked disappointed at this revelation.
“Then you are not my father?” she cried.
“No, Oneotah; only by adoption.”
“Your real father is in our camp,” said Percy. “A hunter, named Glyndon. This, we are all quite assured, is the case.”
The Prophet looked surprised. “Is it so?” he asked.
Percy briefly recounted Glyndon’s story, as he had repeatedly revealed it to the boys and the lieutenant.
“Undoubtedly she is his daughter,” responded Smoholler; “but for her own good, and mine, she had better be considered my daughter.”
“I shall never love any other father!” cried Oneotah.