On hearing this bold reply, White–bull bent his brow fiercely upon the speaker; but the youth met his eye with a look of bright untroubled confidence, while he quietly awaited the chief’s further interrogation.
“Let the son of the Lenapé speak, but let him beware,—if his tongue is forked, the Upsaroka knives will cut it out from his head.”
“Wingenund is not a woman, that he should be frightened with big words; when he speaks, the truth comes from his lips; and if he chooses to be silent, the Upsaroka knives cannot make him speak,” replied the youth, with a look of lofty scorn.
“Is it so?—we shall see,” cried White–bull, springing forward, at the same time drawing his knife, with which he struck full at the naked breast of the youth. Not a muscle moved in the form or countenance of Wingenund; his eye remained steadily fixed on that of the Crow, and he did not even raise in his defence the arm over which his blanket was suspended. Nothing could have saved him from instant death, had not White–bull himself arrested the blow just as it was falling, so that the point of the knife scratched, but did not penetrate the skin. Wingenund smiled, and the Crow warrior, partly ashamed of his own ebullition of temper, and partly in admiration of the cool courage of the young Delaware, said to his father, “Let him speak: there are no lies upon his tongue.”
The old man looked for a moment sternly at his son, as if he would have reproved him for his violence, in interrupting the business of the council, but apparently he thought it better to let it pass; and, turning towards Wingenund, he said, in a milder tone than he had yet used, “Let the young stranger speak if he will, his words will not be blown away; if he has seen a snake, let him show it, and the chiefs of the Upsaroka will owe him a debt.”
Thus appealed to, Wingenund, slowly raising the forefinger of his right hand, pointed it full upon Mahéga, saying, in a loud voice, “There is the snake! Fed by the hand of the Upsaroka, clad in their gifts, warmed by their fire, he now tries to bite them, and give them over to their enemies, even as his black heart and forked tongue have before destroyed those whom he called brothers.”
It is beyond the power of words to paint the rage of the conscious Osage, on hearing this charge: he concealed it, however, by a strong effort, under a show of just indignation, exclaiming aloud, “The Upsaroka warriors are not fools, that they should believe the idle words of a stranger boy, a spy, who stole into their camp by night, and now tickles their ears with lies.”
“The young Lenapé must tell more,” said the old chief, gravely, “before the Upsaroka can believe bad things of a warrior who has smoked and fought with them, and has taken the scalps of their enemies.”
Thus called upon, Wingenund proceeded to relate distinctly the circumstances narrated in the last chapter. His tale was so clearly told, his description of the locality so accurate, that the attention of the whole council was riveted, and they listened with the most profound attention. A cloud gathered upon the brow of White–bull, and the gigantic frame of Mahéga swelled with a tempest of suppressed passion. Independently of the dangers that now threatened him, his proud spirit chafed at the thought of being thus tracked, discovered, exposed, and disgraced by a boy; and his fury was heightened by observing the bright eye of the Delaware youth fixed upon him with a steady searching gaze, indicative at once of conscious truth and triumph. Still he resolved to hold out to the last; he trusted that after the great services he had rendered in battle to the Crows, they would at least believe his word, before that of an unknown youth, who came amongst them under such suspicious circumstances. These reflections passing rapidly through his mind, restored his disturbed self–possession, and enabled him to curl his haughty features into an expression of sneering contempt.
Great was the excitement among the Crows, as Wingenund described, with unerring minuteness and accuracy, the dress and equipments of the stranger with whom Mahéga had held the interview; and there was dead silence in the council when the interpreter was ordered to inquire whether he knew to what tribe the strange Indian belonged.