“He has good cause,” answered the Prophet, sententiously. “I saved his life.”
“Oh! more than life!” exclaimed Oneotah. “If it was only death that threatened me—”
The Prophet held up his finger warningly, and Oneotah paused and bowed his head submissively.
“Oneotah is Smoholler’s slave,” he continued. “Until death, or his lips release me, I have sworn to do his bidding.”
“Enough! your bondage will not last until death,” returned Smoholler, with a significancy which the boys could feel but could not understand. “Be faithful but a short time longer, and you shall be restored to your true condition—and the spirits shall no longer torment you.”
The Indian boy appeared to be much gratified by this assurance.
“It is good,” he answered. “The heart of Smoholler is noble, he will not deceive me.”
Percy Vere was much interested in Oneotah.
“Of what tribe is he?” he asked.
“He was reared by the Nez Perces, but is not of their blood, although he thinks he is,” replied Smoholler. “There is a secret concerning his birth, which my skill has divined, and which no other appears to have suspected. He was made captive by a band of Yakimas under a chief named Howlish Wampo, who had surprised and defeated the party to which he was attached. I came up with Howlish Wampo at a critical moment in the boy’s fate, and took him away from the chief. Wampo bears me a grudge for it to this day. He would like to gain possession of the boy again, but dare not do so while I protect him. If Oneotah were to rejoin the Nez Perces he would no longer be safe from the pursuit of Howlish Wampo.”