“She is the youngest and favourite wife of the Upsaroka chief,” replied Besha, lowering his voice, “and she desires a medicine that his love for her may never change; her heart is good towards the Washashee, and her hands are not empty.” Here he whispered a few words to his companion, and the girl timidly extending her hand placed in that of the Osage a small roll of tobacco.
The grim features of the warrior relaxed into a smile, as his fingers closed upon the scarce and much–coveted leaf[66], and without further delay he moved to the entrance of the tent, and wakening Lita, desired her to arouse her mistress for a conference with the bride of the Upsaroka chief.
Although surprised at this unexpected summons, Prairie–bird hastened to receive her visitor, supposing that some sudden illness or accident must be the cause of her coming at such an hour. Her simple toilet was soon made; and fastening to her girdle the bag containing the slender stock of instruments and trifles that she always carried with her, she stepped into the outer compartment of the tent, and desired Lita to admit the stranger.
The Crow girl, led by Besha, came forward with apparent reluctance, obviously under the influence of the greatest terror, and Prairie–bird was, for the moment, annoyed at the admission into her tent of a man whom she had only seen once or twice before, and whose appearance was forbidding in the extreme; but quickly remembering that without him it would have been impossible to communicate with her visitor, she desired Lita to place three mats; and seating herself upon one, kindly took the Crow girl by the hand, drawing her gently to that nearest to herself; then motioning to Besha to occupy the third, she requested him in the Delaware tongue, to explain the object of this nightly visit.
“The tale of the Upsaroka maid is secret,” he replied; “it is only for the ears of Olitipa.”
At a signal from her mistress, Lita, throwing a blanket over her shoulder, stepped into the open air, and leaned against the breastwork not far from the post of Toweno.
“Does the ‘Bending–willow’ wish all to be told?” inquired Besha of his companion in a whisper.
Bending–willow, who had not yet dared to lift her eyes from the ground, now timidly raised them; and encountering the kind and encouraging glance of Prairie–bird, answered, “Let all be told.”
Having received this permission, the one–eyed horse–dealer proceeded to relate, with more feeling than could have been expected from his harsh and uncouth appearance, the story of his fair companion. She was the daughter of the principal brave in the nation; both he and his only son had fallen lately in a bloody engagement with the Black–feet. The father had, with his dying breath, bequeathed his surviving child to the protection of his chief, and the latter had fulfilled the trust by giving her in marriage to his eldest son, a gallant youth, who, although not yet twenty–five years of age, had already two wives in his lodge, and had taken many scalps from the Black–feet, against whom he was now absent on an expedition undertaken to avenge the slain relations of his newly–espoused bride.