“How?”
“Are we not all children of the Great Spirit?”
“We are.”
“Then,” said Elkswatawa, “the Great Spirit must unite us, and one common wrong incite us to action. A messenger from the Manito must go among the red men, and preach the word. It must tie them together, until a wrong done one, is felt by the whole; until one mind, is the mind of all. Then let the war club be raised. Hast thou seen the torrent when it rushes from the mountains? or the wild horse of the prairie when he flies along with his countless troop?”
“Yes,” cried Tecumseh, animated by the glowing vision, “the music of coming feet seems already floating in the air. Like the heavy tread of a herd of buffalos, I hear them tramping across the plains. Yes, let the red men come on, and every leaf of the forest shall be stirred as they move along, and the war whoop shall ring, and the red torch blaze. Then the Indian warrior shall cry out ‘where is the pale face?’ and there shall be none left to answer. They shall sleep, and wake no more.”
“It shall be so,” said Elkswatawa, “but time and toil and labour must be borne with. We must work and not tire. Nothing must drive us from our purpose. Like a steady stream we must continue our course. Our ears must not hear what people say of us. Though they laugh at us, our passions must go to sleep. Still the red men must be aroused. To the strong, we must give honey. Over the weak, we must hold the tomahawk. And to what all this is to lead to, for a time, must be buried deep in the ground. No one must know it.”
“Then to our purpose;” said Tecumseh, “you have thought upon this subject; give me your plans.”
“Superstition must do our work,” said Elkswatawa, “and by it we must master them. We must excite their fears. We must seem to work miracles. We must see into the future, and the red men must be troubled until they say, ‘behold the agents of the Great Spirit!’ When we have done this, we lead them as we please.”
“Then a Prophet must arise.”
“Even so.”