A guttural exclamation, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps, came from within. Then the Prophet, bowing and smiling, stood in the doorway.
“Welcome, my brother!” were his words of greeting.
Dashing aside the extended hand, Tecumseh cried angrily:
“How dare you bid me welcome to this poor place—you who have disobeyed my orders and defeated my purpose!”
Tenskwatawa scornfully curled his lip, as he replied:
“My brother, after a long absence, returns to his people. I bid him welcome and extend to him my hand. He rejects it—and, in answer to my greeting drops angry words. I fail to understand his meaning.”
Tecumseh drew his magnificent figure to its full height and keenly eyed the speaker. His deep chest heaved spasmodically. The assembled warriors maintained a breathless silence. Instinctively they knew that a struggle for the mastery was on between the two Titans of the Shawnee tribe.
“You know well what I mean!” Tecumseh at last managed to articulate. “For years I have labored to bring about a union of the tribes. I have traveled far—I have sat by many council-fires. You offered me your advice and aid. I accepted both. I loved and trusted you. Together we accomplished much. A few months ago I went to visit our brothers of the land of flowers and sunshine. They have promised to join us in a war to recover our own. When I started on my journey, I cautioned you to do nothing that would excite the suspicions or arouse the animosities of the Seventeen Fires. You promised to follow my advice—to obey my orders. But scarcely were my footprints cold, ere you allowed our young men to go forth to pillage and murder. You had certain knowledge of this—yet you winked at it. The inevitable happened. I return to find my people defeated—humiliated. You, Tenskwatawa—you alone are to blame for all! Wag your deceitful tongue, and let our people know what excuse you can fashion!”
The Prophet’s repulsive countenance was contorted with rage, as he burst forth: