Bradford proceeded: “Had you caused my death, my people would have learned the fact. They would have withdrawn their help, and avenged my murder. You know I speak the truth. You were mad to harbor the thought of opposing my will. Your brother—the great and warlike Tecumseh—is my friend. What would he have said to you?”
The Prophet shivered and was silent. Bradford hastened to conclude:
“Let us have a final understanding, then. This young man is my friend——”
“Hold!” testily interrupted Douglas, who had been chafing under the oft-repeated assertion. “I’ll not admit that I’m your friend, to save my life, even.”
Tenskwatawa uttered a grunt of surprise. But Scar Face resumed placidly:
“He is my friend, although he denies it. But he is an American; and as an American, is the enemy of the redmen and their allies, the English. This morning he fought against us; he would fight against us again. Therefore we shall keep him prisoner. But he must receive neither insult nor injury at our hands. Tenskwatawa, you have made two mistakes within the last twenty-four hours. You must not forget your promise to me—and thereby make another.”
“Tenskwatawa will not forget his promise,” the Prophet answered humbly.
Bradford approached the Indian and whispered a few words in his ear. The latter nodded and glanced toward Douglas. Then the two white men and the dog withdrew from the lodge. When they were out of sight and hearing, the Prophet stamped the earth and tore his hair, in a frenzy of impotent rage.
On reaching the open air, Bradford turned to his companion and said briskly:
“Wait for me here. I’ll be gone but a few minutes.”