"The Wacondah is omnipotent, those to whom the Master of Life speaks, keep his words in their heart."
"That is just," Spider, who did not understand him, answered, with a bow.
"My son is a warrior of the terrible queen of the prairies?" the sorcerer went on.
"I am indeed, a Comanche warrior."
"Is my son on the hunting path?"
"No, I am at this moment on the war trail."
"Wah! Does my son hope to deceive a great medicine man, that he utters such word before him?"
"My words are true, my blood runs pure as water in my veins, a lie never sullied my lips, my heart only breathes the truth," Spider answered, with a certain haughtiness, internally wounded by the sorcerer's suspicions.
"Good, I am willing to believe him," the latter went on; "but when did the Comanches begin to take their squaws with them on the war path?"
"The Comanches are masters of their actions; no one has a right to control them."