He let his head hang despairingly on his chest, and remained for a few moments absorbed in gloomy meditation. Prairie-Flower regarded him with an expression of tender pity; she had only imperfectly caught the words the Chief muttered, and understood but little of them. Still she felt a deep friendship for him; she suffered in seeing him, and sought vainly some consolation to afford. She waited anxiously till he should remember her presence, and speak to her again. At length he raised his head.
"My sister has not told me which of our young warriors she prefers to all the rest."
"Has not the Sachem guessed it?" she asked, timidly.
"Natah Otann is a chief. If he is the father of his warriors, he is no spy on their deeds or thoughts."
"The man of whom I speak to my brother is not a Kenha warrior," she continued.
"Ah!" he said in surprise, and looking scrutinizingly at her, "Can it be one of the Palefaces who are Natah Otann's guests?"
"My brother would say his prisoners," she murmured.
"What mean these words, girl? Have you, born but yesterday, any right to try and explain my actions? Ah!" he added, with a frown, "now I understand how the Palefaced Chiefs had weapons when I visited them an hour ago. It is useless for my daughter to tell me now the name of him she loves, for I know it."
The girl hung her head, with a blush.
"Achtsett—it is good," he continued, in a rough voice, "my sister is free to place her affections where she pleases; but her love must not lead her to betray her friends for the Palefaces. She is a daughter of the Kenhas. Was it to give me this news that Prairie-Flower came to me?"