“Now listen to me.
“My father, the old chief, went, I have said, north into British land. I never saw him again. A year later I also sought refuge in this region, and this is the story I gathered from the few scattered people of our tribe.
“My father, ‘The Black Eagle,’ had been invited to a trader’s house on the banks of the Red River, not fifty miles from where we now are. This trader had given him spirit to drink. In the spirit he had put laudanum. My father drank unsuspectingly, and was soon plunged into deep unconscious sleep. From that sleep he woke to find himself in the hands of the Americans.
“It was the depth of winter. His betrayers had bound him while asleep upon a sledge drawn by a fast horse. In the dead of night they had carried him to the American lines at Pembina, and there sold him to the Yankee officer, bound and helpless.
“The price paid was 500 dollars. A week later the old chief, my father, was hanged as a traitor in sight of the very river by whose banks he had been born.
“You wonder what has brought me to these northern lands? My father’s spirit has brought me. Five times since that day I have sought my father’s murderer, and each time my search has been fruitless. Yes, through all these years, through many changes, and from far distant places, I have come here to seek revenge. Again I have been baffled. The man for whom I look has gone far out on the plains, trading with the Crees and Blackfeet. I learned this two days ago, in the settlement, and at once turned my horse’s head towards the west, determined to seek this spot, get my horses, pack up, and follow the trail of my father’s murderer into the great prairie.
“By chance I saw you again this morning. You are different from all the white men I have ever met. You seem to love the wilderness for its wildness, as a bird loves the air for its freedom. Well, it is for that that I love it too. In our old times, when the Sioux were strong and powerful, the young men of the tribe, the best and bravest, used to swear an oath of brotherhood and lasting friendship to the young braves of other tribes. That oath meant, that if they met in battle, or in danger, the life of one was sacred to the other.
“To you I will give that promise and that oath. I have no friends but my horse and dog. My people are scattered far and wide over the wilderness. Most of those who were with me ten years ago are now dead. I am an outcast on the earth; but I am free, and fear no man. We will together roam the wilderness; at any time if you desire it, you are free to part. I do not ask your assistance to revenge the wrongs I have suffered. That shall be my own work. For the rest I have quarrel with no man. Ever since that war with the Americans I have fired no hostile shot at a red man of any race or tribe. When attacked I have defended myself; but I have joined no tribe to fight another tribe. If I fall into the hands of my enemies I know that my father’s death will be my death—that as his bones were left to bleach in sight of the land in which he was born, so mine would be also gibbeted, as a warning to the wretched remnants of my race who yet live, spectral shadows, on the land that once had owned the dominion of the Sioux.”
The Indian ceased speaking. The fire still burned bright and clear.
As the light of the evening grew fainter, and darkness closed over the scene, the sounds of the wilderness fell distinctly upon our ears—the ripple of the river, the lonely cry of grey owls, the far-off echo of some prowling wolf.