The American sat down on the ground by the Chief, not without a certain feeling of apprehension through his isolation on this battle-field strewn with corpses; but the Indian appeared so calm and tranquil that John Davis felt ashamed to let his anxiety be seen, and affecting carelessness he was very far from feeling, he began to speak.
"I am sent to my brother by a great warrior of the Palefaces."
"I know him; he is called the Jaguar. His arm is strong, and his eye flashes like that of the animal whose name, he bears."
"Good! The Jaguar wishes to bury the hatchet between his warriors and those of my brother, in order that peace may unite them, and that, instead of fighting with each other, they may pursue the buffalo on the same hunting grounds, and avenge themselves on their common enemies. What answer shall I give the Jaguar?"
The Indian remained silent for a long time; at length he raised his head.
"My brother will open his ears," he said, "a Sachem is about to speak."
"I am listening," the American answered.
The Chief went on—
"The words my bosom breathes are sincere—the Wacondah inspires me with them; the Palefaces, since they were brought by the genius of evil in their large medicine-canoes to the territories of my fathers, have ever been the virulent enemies of the Red men; invading their richest and most fertile hunting grounds, pursuing them like wild beasts whenever they met with them, burning their callis, and dispersing the bones of their ancestors to the four winds of Heaven. Has not such constantly been the conduct of the Palefaces? I await my brother's answer."
"Well," the American said, with a certain amount of embarrassment, "I cannot deny, Chief, that there is some truth in what you say; but still, all the men of my colour have not been unkind to the Redskins, and several have tried to do them good."