ngers tired of
remaining so far from their wigwams: their chief every morning would
look for hours towards the rising of the sun, as if the eyes of his soul
could see through the immensity of the prairies; he became gloomy as a
man of dark deeds (a Medecin), and one day, with half of his men, he
began a long inland trail across prairies, swamps, and rivers, so much
did he dread to die far from his lodge. Yet he did die: not of sickness,
not of hunger, but under the knife of another Pale-face; and he was the
first one from strange countries whose bones blanched without burial in
the waste. Often the evening breeze whispers his name along the swells
of the southern plains, for he was a brave man, and no doubt he is now
smoking with his great Manitou.

"Well, he started. At that time the buffalo and the deer were plentiful,
and the men went on their trail gaily till they reached the river of
many forks (Trinity River), for they knew that every day brought them
nearer and nearer to the forts of their people, though it was yet a long
way--very long. The Pale-face chief had a son with him; a noble youth,
fair to look upon, active and strong: the Comanches loved him. Mosh
Kohta had advised him to distrust two of his own warriors; but he was
young and generous, incapable of wrong or cowardice; he would not
suspect it in others, especially among men of his own colour and nation,
who had shared his toils, his dangers, his sorrows, and his joys.

"Now these two warriors our great chief had spoken of were bad men and
very greedy; they were ambitious too, and believed that, by killing
their chief and his son, they would themselves command the band. One
evening, while they were all eating the meal of friendship, groans were
heard--a murder had been committed. The other warriors sprang up; they
saw their chief dead, and the two warriors coming towards them; their
revenge was quick--quick as that of the panther: the two base warriors
were killed.

"Then there was a great fight among the Pale-face band, in which many
were slain; but the young man and some other braves escaped from their
enemies, and, after two moons, reached the Arkansas, where they found
their friends and some Makota Conayas (priests--black-gowns). The
remainder of the band who left us, and who murdered their chief, our
ancestors destroyed like reptiles, for they were venomous and bad. The
other half of the Pale-faces, who had remained behind in their wood
wigwams,