It was an hour and a scene calculated to inspire thoughts of awe, piety, and gratitude towards the Creator; of love, gentleness, and peace towards His creatures; and yet through those groves and glens feet more stealthy than the panther’s step, foes more fell than the prowling bear, now wound their silent way, bent on their secret errand of destruction and of blood.
In one quarter Reginald, followed by Baptiste, Pierre, and six men, moved swiftly across the prairie, under the guidance of Wingenund, towards the camp of the Osages; in another, Mahéga led a numerous band through the defiles before described, to surprise the encampment of the Delawares; while at the latter place War–Eagle, aided by Attō and his chosen warriors, was making all the necessary dispositions for a stratagem by which he hoped to defeat the expected attack of his enemies.
It was already several hours past midnight, the moon had withdrawn her light, and Prairie–bird was buried in the refreshing sleep that visits the eyelids of guileless youth; Lita slumbered on a couch of skins stretched across the entrance of her mistress’s tent, before which at a little distance the Osage sentry, seated by the breastwork thrown up for the defence of the position, hummed a low and plaintive air of his tribe. Suddenly his ear caught the sound of approaching feet, and quick as thought the arrow was fitted to his bow–string, but he checked the hasty movement, remembering that sentries were posted at the base of the hill, who would not have permitted any hostile step to approach unchallenged. As the new comers drew near he distinguished through the gloom the figures of a man and a woman, the former short and square–built, the latter slight and graceful.
“What do the strangers seek?” inquired Toweno, for he it was whom Mahéga had left in charge of his camp, and who now guarded the tent of Prairie–bird.
“Toweno is a great warrior among the Washashee; his voice is welcome to the ear of a friend,” replied in the Osage tongue, the rough voice of Besha, the horse–dealer. “The Upsaroka maiden wishes to speak with Olitipa, the Great Medicine of the tent.”
“This is not a time for maidens to visit or to speak,” replied Toweno; “the feet of the braves are on the night–path, and many wives who sleep now will be widows ere the sun is up.”
“Besha knows it well,” answered the horse–dealer; “nor can he understand how Toweno is in the camp while Mahéga and his warriors are on the bloody–path.”
“The Pale–faces are cunning,” replied the Osage, “and Mahéga would not leave the rich skins of otter, beaver, and bison, and the Great Medicine of the tent, without a guard.”
“The Pale–faces will not come near the high–camp,” said Besha, casting a rapid glance over the bales of fur and cloth. “Have you many warriors left with you?”
“Four of the Washashee, and four times four of the Upsaroka, is the band in camp[65]; but what does the woman desire of Olitipa?”