“Methinks you may,” said Prairie–bird, “for he received his wound in defending me from those cruel men.”
“True,” replied Reginald; “let my brother speak to him in the Delaware tongue, and explain the message he is to bear.”
“It is well,” answered the youth; adding, with an arch look, “and let Netis not send him away with empty hands. There is cunning in the stranger’s eye, he knows that Mahéga is poor; and he will rather make friends with those who have something to give.”
“Be it so,” said Reginald, laughing; and he forthwith desired one of his men to select from a package containing knives, powder, tobacco, and cloth, a quantity equal to the usual Indian price for a horse. Wingenund, having waited in silence the return of the messenger, addressed the prisoner as follows:—
“Has the stranger a name in his tribe?”
“He is called Besha in the southern prairies.”
“Besha dwells among the Crows. They have shed the blood of white men and Delawares in battle; his scalp belongs to those who have taken him.”
The horse–dealer bowed in silence, and the youth continued:
“But the heart of the white chief is great; he will not take Besha’s life, neither will he bind his limbs. Besha is free to go where he likes.”
The horse–dealer stared as if he did not quite believe his ears; but Wingenund, without appearing to notice his surprise, proceeded.