"The chiefs are assembled here in council. Their words are sacred. Wacondah has heard our prayer, it is granted. Woe to the man who forgets that conscience must be his only guide!"
After uttering these words with great dignity the pipe bearer left the circle, murmuring in a low, though perfectly distinct voice,—
"Just as the ash I have thrown into the fire has disappeared for ever, so the words of the chiefs must be sacred, and never be repeated outside the sachems' circle. My fathers can speak; the council is opened."
The pipe bearer departed after this warning. Then Eagle-head rose, and, after surveying all the warriors present, took the word.
"Comanche chiefs and warriors," he said, "many moons have passed away since I left the villages of my nation; many moons will again pass ere the all-powerful Wacondah will permit me to sit at the council fire of the great Comanche sachems. The blood has ever flowed red in my veins, and my heart has never worn a skin for my brothers. The words which pass my lips are spoken by the will of the Great Spirit. He knows how I have kept up my love for you. The Comanche nation is powerful; it is the Queen of the Prairies. Its hunting grounds cover the whole world. What need has it to ally itself with other nations to avenge insults? Does the unclean coyote retire into the den of the haughty jaguar? Does the owl lay its eggs in the eagle's nest? Why should the Comanche walk on the warpath with the Apache dogs? The Apaches are cowardly and treacherous women. I thank my brothers for not only having broken with them, but also for having helped me to defeat them. Now my heart is sad, a mist covers my mind, because I must separate myself from my brothers. Let them accept my farewell. Let the Jester pity me, because I shall walk in the shadow far from him. The sunbeams, however burning they may be, will not warm me. I have spoken. Have I spoken well, powerful men?"
Eagle-head sat down amid a murmur of grief, and concealed his face behind the skirt of his buffalo robe. There was great silence in the assembly; the Jester seemed to interrogate the other chiefs with a glance. At length he rose, and took the word in his turn to reply to the sachem.
"The Jester is young," he said; "his head is good, though he does not possess, the great wisdom of his father. Eagle-head is a sachem beloved by the Wacondah. Why has the Master of Life brought the chief back among the warriors of his nation? Is it that he should leave them again almost immediately? No; the Master of Life loves his Comanche sons. He could not have desired that. The warriors need a wise and experienced chief to lead them on the warpath, and instruct them round the council fire. My father's head is grey; he will teach and guide the warriors. The Jester cannot do so; he is still too young, and wants experience. Where my father goes his sons will go; what my father wishes his sons will wish. But never let him speak again about leaving them. Let him disperse the cloud that obscures his mind. His sons implore it by the mouth of the Jester—that child he brought up, whom he loved so much formerly, and of whom he made a man. I have spoken; here is my wampum. Have I spoken well, powerful men?"
After uttering the last words the chief threw a collar of wampum at Eagle-head's feet, and sat down again.
"The great sachem must remain with his sons," all the warriors shouted, as, in their turn, they threw down their wampum collars.
Eagle-head rose with an air of great nobility; he allowed the skirt of his buffalo robe to fall, and addressing the anxious and attentive assembly,—