“The will of the bride was strong,” he replied; “she would take no counsel from Besha; if he did not go with her she would go alone to consult the Medicine of the tent; Besha went with her that none might do her harm.”
“The ears of White–bull are not to be tickled by the songs of birds,” said the young chief, fiercely. “Besha took her to the white men’s camp, and he must bring her back before two suns have set, or his heart shall be cut out from his body.”
“White–bull knows that there are two white prisoners here; let him give them to Besha, and he will bring back Bending–willow before the sun is in the west.”
“The white prisoners belong to the war–council,” said the young man sullenly. “White–bull cares not whether they live or die; but he wants his bride, whom the fool Besha led away to a place where she was caught like a beaver in a trap; if he does not bring her back within two sunsets, the blade of this knife shall be red. White–bull has spoken, and his words are not wind!” So saying, the violent youth passed with angry strides from the horse–dealer’s lodge.
Besha now found himself in an awkward predicament, in endeavouring to extricate himself from which his first step was to consult the young chief’s father, hoping that the latter would give his consent at once to release the prisoners for the recovery of the favourite bride. But the old man would not agree to the proposal, giving as his reason, that the council had resolved either to take the lives of the prisoners, or to make the enemy pay many horses and much goods for their ransom. “Besha has a tongue,” continued the crafty old man; “he can speak with the white men; he can tell them that if the bride is given up, their friends shall be returned; they will believe him, and all will be well.”
Besha, though not particularly scrupulous in his morality, was startled at first by this proposal of treacherous and deliberate falsehood towards one who had spared his life and had given him his liberty, besides loading him with presents; but his conscience being of an extremely elastic texture, he soon reconciled himself to the idea by the reflection that it was his best, if not his only chance of saving his life from the fury of the incensed White–bull. He made no reply to the old chief; but, as he went away, the two rogues exchanged a look which satisfied them that they understood each other.
The horse–dealer proceeded without delay to the lodge where Paul Müller and Ethelston were confined, into which he was admitted by their guards. Having explained to the missionary that he was about to visit the white men’s camp for the purpose of liberating him and his companion by the recovery of the captive bride, he desired to be furnished with a sign by which they would be induced to give her up without hesitation; for Besha, in his rambles on the Mexican frontier, had frequently met with the Spanish traders, and although he could not read letters himself, he knew how they were used for the interchange of communication at a distance.
Before giving any reply, Paul Müller explained the state of affairs to his companion, and asked his counsel.
“Methinks we should trust the fellow,” said Ethelston, “for he has hitherto befriended us: but let us not write any thing that can endanger the safety of Prairie–bird.”
“I agree with you, my son,” he replied, “and will write accordingly.”