"Why then, does Snake-tongue make us this long war-speech? It is true that we are friends; let us continue so."
"My father speaks wise. Let us remain friends. There is no cloud between us and the pale-faces, that the pale-faces cannot put away. A young warrior of the Senecas has been killed, and his enemy has got his scalp. Did the pale-faces do that? No,—the pale-faces do not take scalps; but an Indian always does; a scalp looks good in his eyes. We would find the scalp of our young warrior! Where is it?"
"I am sorry," answered Barton, "if any of your young men have been killed; but Snake-tongue speaks true; he was not killed by the pale-faces. I do not know where his scalp is."
"But we know where it is," continued Snake-tongue. "It is hid beneath the belt of Canendesha. He has hid it from his friends; but he cannot hide it from the Senecas. Their eyes are sharp; they can see an enemy a great way off,—and they can find his trail if he hides. Canendesha is in the cottage of the pale-faces. We are at peace with the pale-faces; but we want the Tuscarora. He has killed a warrior of the Senecas. The Tuscarora must die. It is Indian law. It was taught us by the Great Spirit that we must punish our enemies. We want the Tuscarora."
The Indian paused, as if waiting for a reply. Barton answered—
"My brother has a bad tradition; it is not true; the Great Spirit does not teach the red men to punish their enemies. The red men have not heard right; their ears have been shut. The Great Spirit has said that the red men must love their enemies."
"I have heard," answered Snake-tongue, "of such a tradition among the pale-faces. It must be a false tradition, for the pale-faces do not believe it; they punish their enemies. We believe in our tradition. It is a good one."
"I do not deny," said Barton, who saw that the conversation must be terminated, "but that the Tuscarora may have killed one of your young men; but did not the young Seneca try to prevent him from getting his squaw? We have heard that Panther has stolen the squaw of the Tuscarora, and will not give her up. Is that right? Do red men treat their brothers so, and expect that their hearts will be filled with peace?"
"The young squaw," answered Snake-tongue, quietly, "is in the wigwam of Panther; she can go if she does not wish to stay there; but her eyes like to look on Panther. He is a great warrior."
Ichabod could be restrained no longer. This slander of Singing-Bird was more than his friendship for Eagle's-Wing, would allow him to bear.