Further discourse was prevented by the commencement of the Osage’s speech, which he delivered with a tone and gesture of indignation, suitable to one who declared himself injured and belied.
He began by recapitulating the services that he had rendered to the Crows, the faithful warriors that he had lost in their cause, and their valuable presents concealed in the câche, to which he was even now conducting them; on the other hand, he painted the injuries they had received from the Lenapé, who had come into their country in league with the white–skins, the bane of their tribe and race, that their hands were still wet with Upsaroka blood; and “whose is the forked tongue,” said he, “that is to cover with lies and dirt the fame of the great chief of the Washashee, the sworn brother of the Upsaroka?—Who but a boy, a stranger, a liar, and a spy, telling his idle dreams to the council to break the friendship of warriors whom his cowardly tribe, and their pale–faced allies, dared not meet in the field!”
During the whole of this tirade, which was delivered with much vehemence and gesticulation, Wingenund stood motionless as a statue, his calm eye fixed upon the excited countenance of his opponent with an undisguised expression of contempt.
Receiving no reply, Mahéga continued: “Chiefs and brothers, you are wise in council—men of experience; your ears will not be tickled with the idle songs of this false–tongued singing–bird; a messenger who brings such news to the great council of the Upsaroka—who tells them that their brother who has fought by their side, and smoked at their fire, is a forked snake, he must bring something better able to convince them than the cunning words coming from his own lying lips!”
These words, supported by the commanding tone assumed by the Osage, were not without their effect upon the minds of that fierce and deeply–interested assemblage.
Wingenund waited until the speech of his antagonist had been translated to them, when he replied, with unmoved composure, “If the Crow warriors require better witness than words, it is not difficult to find; they have already been told that the Kainna stranger gave to Mahéga a present of a bow and arrows, which he hid in the rocks; Wingenund took them out, and here they are.”
As the youth spoke he dropped the blanket that had been thrown over his left arm and shoulder, holding up to the council the bow and arrows, which all present instantly recognised as being made and ornamented by the Black–feet.
“Are the warriors yet convinced,” continued the youth, raising his voice, “or do they wish for more? If they do, let them seize the Washashee wolf, they will find in his belt—“
He was not allowed to finish the sentence; the storm that had long been brooding, now burst in all its fury. Mahéga, driven to desperation by the damning evidence brought against him, and reckless of all save the gratification of his fierce revenge, whirled his iron–pointed mace around his head, and launched it with tremendous force at Wingenund.