"No; but he is dangerously wounded."
After these words there was a silence. The chief looked around him, and then said—
"So; four Palefaces have held at bay two hundred Blackfeet warriors; killed and wounded their bravest chiefs, and those warriors have not taken their revenge. Ah! ah! what will the White Buffalo say when he hears that? He will give petticoats to my sons, and make them prepare food for the more courageous warriors, instead of sending them on the warpath."
"The camp of the Long Knives was in our power," the Indian replied, who had hitherto spoken for his comrades, "we already had them down with our knees on their chests, a portion of their cattle was carried off, and the scalps of the Palefaces were about to be attached to our girdles, when the Evil Genius suddenly appeared in their midst, and, by her mere appearance, changed the face of the combat."
The chief's face became still severer at this news, which his warriors received with unequivocal marks of terror.
"The 'Evil Genius!'" he said; "of whom is my brother speaking?"
"Of whom else can I speak to my father, save the Lying She-wolf of the Prairies??" the Indian said, in a low voice.
"Oh! oh!" Natah Otann answered, "did my brother see the She-wolf?"
"Yes; we assure our father," the Blackfeet shouted altogether, happy to clear themselves from the accusation of cowardice that weighed on them.
Natah Otann seemed to reflect for a moment.