Natah Otann was attached to his adopted daughter, so far as organizations like his are capable of yielding to any feeling. At first he sported with the girl as with an unimportant plaything; but gradually, as the child was transformed and became a woman, these sports became more serious, and his heart was attracted. For the first time in his life, this man, with his indomitable soul, felt a feeling stir in him which he could not analyze, but which, through its force and violence, astonished and terrified him.
Then, a dumb struggle began between the chiefs head and heart. He revolted against this influence which subjugated him: he, hitherto accustomed to break through every obstacle, was now powerless before a child, who disarmed him with a smile, when he tried to overpower her. This struggle lasted a long time; at length, the terrible Indian confessed himself vanquished, that is to say, he allowed the current to carry him away, and without attempting a resistance, which he felt to be useless, he began to love the young maiden madly. But this love at times caused him sufferings so terrible, when he thought of the manner in which Prairie Flower had become his adopted daughter, that he asked himself with terror, whether this deep love which had seized on his brain, and mastered him, was not a chastisement imposed by Heaven.
Then, he fell back in his usual state of fury, redoubled his ferocity with those unhappy beings whose plantations he surprised, and, all reeking with blood, his girdle hung with scalps, he returned to the village, and displayed the hideous trophies before the girl. Prairie Flower, astonished at the state in which she saw a man whom she believed to be—not her father, for he was too young—but a relative, lavished on him all the consolations and simple caresses which her attachment to him suggested to her: unfortunately, these caresses heightened his suffering, and he would rush away half mad with grief, leaving her sad and almost terrified by this conduct, which was so incomprehensible to her.
Matters reached such a pitch, that the White Buffalo, whose vigilant eye was constantly fixed on his pupil, considered that he must, at all risks, cut away the evil at the root, and withdraw the son of his friend from the deadly fascination exercised over him by this innocent enchantress. When he felt convinced of the chiefs love for Prairie Flower, the old sachem asked for a private interview with his pupil: the latter granted it, quite unsuspecting the reason which urged the White Buffalo to take this step.
One morning the chief presented himself at the entrance of his friend's lodge. The White Buffalo was reading by the side of a fire kindled in the middle of the hut.
"You are welcome, my son," he said to the young man. "I have only a few words to say to you, but I consider them sufficiently serious for you to hear them without delay; sit down by my side."
The young man obeyed. The White Buffalo then carefully changed his tactics: he, who had so long combated the chief's views as to the regeneration of the Indian race, entered completely into his views, with an ardour and conviction carried so far, that the young man was astonished, and could not refrain from asking what produced this sudden change in his opinion?
"The cause is very simple," the old man answered. "So long as I considered that these views were only suggested by the impetuosity of youth, I merely regarded them as the dreams of a generous heart, which was deceiving itself, and not taking the trouble to weigh the chances of success."
"What now?" the young man asked, quickly.
"Now, I recognize all the earnestness, nobility, and grandeur, contained in your plans; and not only admit their possibility, but I wish to aid you, so as to ensure success."