It was Black Bear who spoke, his voice sounding hoarse and hollow beneath his hairy mask. Allacotah was a chief of power and distinction, but Black Bear was his superior—hence the latter’s authoritative, indignant command.
Silver Voice, with the assistance of Allacotah, began the task of restoring the captive to consciousness. Water was brought from a spring hard by and the brow of the maiden bathed. A cordial made of some wild herbs was administered, and by a vigorous chafing of the limbs and temples, Silvia was brought back to life.
“Put her in there,” said Black Bear, pointing with his claw-clad finger to Silver Voice’s lodge; “the presence of so many warriors might excite her too much. She must have rest and food.”
Allacotah lifted her in his strong arms and carried her into the lodge where Silver Voice had arranged a neat, comfortable couch of skins. Laying her upon the couch, the chief went out, leaving the two women alone.
Silvia opened her eyes and gazed around.
There was a fat-lamp, made in a rude stone-bowl, burning in the lodge, and by it Silvia was enabled to see where she was. All around her wore an air of neatness. The floor of the lodge was laid with a carpet of buffalo-robes, and the walls of the cone-shaped structure were hung with beautiful tapestry of buck-skin, highly and artistically ornamented. Strands of wampum, stuffed birds of beautiful plumage, curious figures carved from wood and stone were arranged around the walls. The only object of civilization to be seen was a small, cracked mirror.
When the captive saw the beautiful Indian woman tending over her with tears in her eyes, her heart beat with gentle hope.
“Rest easy, dear girl,” said Silver Voice, kindly, “you are greatly fatigued.”
“Where am I? and who are you with the tender voice and angelic face?” asked Silvia, rising to a sitting posture and gazing around, her mind still confused and bewildered.
“You are in the encampment of Allacotah, and I am Silver Voice, Allacotah’s wife.”