“But,” said the quick–tempered bride, “the angry spirit gets into the heart of Bending–willow: when fire is in the breast, cool water flows not from the tongue!”
“Olitipa will give a medicine to her sister,” replied our heroine; and opening a case that stood near her, she drew thence a small hand–mirror. Presenting this to her visitor, she added, “When Bending–willow finds the angry spirit in her heart, and bitter words ready on her tongue, let her look at her face in this medicine–glass, and say to herself, ‘Are these the soft eyes that the chief loves to look upon?’”
The bride took the glass, and contemplated her features therein, apparently not without satisfaction. But their expression was troubled, for she was frightened at the words which Prairie–bird had told her were those of the Great Spirit, and her eyes wandered from the book to the maiden, as if she would willingly learn more of her mysterious communion with the powers above.
At this crisis the wild war–cry of the Crows rang through the tent; several shots followed each other in rapid succession, mingled with the whistling of arrows and the clash of blows, while loud above the din of conflict rose the voice of Toweno, urging and encouraging his men.
Besha started to his feet, and rushed from the tent to learn whence came this sudden and unexpected attack, and Lita hastened to the side of her mistress, as if resolved to share her fate, whatever that might be.
Louder and nearer came the mingled cries and yells of battle, and a stray rifle–ball pierced the canvass of the tent, leaving a rent in it close to the head of Prairie–bird. She neither stirred nor spoke; and as the wailing and terrified Bending–willow, the daughter and the bride of warriors inured to scenes of blood, looked on the pale, calm cheek of the Christian maiden, whose hand still rested on the mysterious volume, she felt as if in the presence of a superior being, and crept closer to her side for protection and security.
But we must leave the tent and its inmates, and turn to the scene of strife without. The darkness of night was giving place to the grey hue of dawn, and a faint streak of light was already discernible in the eastern horizon, ere Reginald’s party, guided by Wingenund, was able to reach the base of the hill on which the Osages were posted. His intention had been to arrive there several hours sooner; but he had been prevented by various obstacles, such as might be expected to occur on a night–march through so rugged and difficult a country, and also by the necessity of making a considerable circuit to avoid being seen by the Crows encamped, as was before mentioned, on a hill on the opposite side of the valley.
Reginald had no means of ascertaining the force that might be left to guard the camp and the tent, and it appeared rash in the extreme to attempt by daylight the storming, with only ten men, a position so fortified by nature, and defended by warriors familiar with its local advantages. But his impetuous ardour had communicated itself to all his party, and it was unanimously agreed that the attack should be made.
In the sketch before given of the Osage camp, it was stated that the hill was steep, and of a conical shape, sloping less abruptly towards the valley, while the front that it presented to the prairie eastward was precipitous and inaccessible. The attacking party had made their approach from this quarter, rightly conjecturing that it would be left unguarded. They succeeded in gaining the base of the cliff unperceived; but in spite of the caution with which they advanced towards the more sloping face of the hill, they were descried by the enemy’s outposts, who discharged at them a flight of arrows, uttering at the same time the shrill war–cry that had startled the party within the tent.