“Whose blood,” she inquired, “flows in the veins of Quadaquina?”

“It is the blood of Huttamoiden,” answered the boy, erecting his head, and drawing himself up proudly.

“And who gave the bold heart and strong arm to Huttamoiden?”

“It was the mighty Obbatinuua, whose name men say is still mentioned in the song on the great fresh water lakes.”

“He had two sons?”

“Huttamoiden and”—­He stopped as if unwilling to pronounce the name, and turned with a gesture of contempt from his mother.

Peena supplied the omission.  “Ohquamehud,” she said.  “He is a brave warrior, and the Shawnees are proud of his exploits.”

“He is a dog!” exclaimed the boy, fiercely.  “The blood of Obbatinuua has leaked out of his veins, and the fire-water taken its place.”

“He is the kinsman of Quadaquina, and it does not become a child to judge harshly of any member of his tribe.”

“Mother,” said the boy, gravely, as if he thought it incumbent on him to justify his conduct, “listen.  The hearts of Obbatinuua and of Huttamoiden both beat in my bosom.  They tell me that the son should remember the glory of his father.  Quadaquina is very sick when he sees Ohquamehud lying on the ground, a slave of the fire-water, with his tongue lolling out like a dog’s, and he disdains to acknowledge him as of his blood.”

Peena was not disposed to blame the boy for his disgust at drunkenness.  It was a feeling she had herself most sedulously cultivated by every means in her power, pointing out, as occasion offered, like the Lacedemonians, its exhibitions in its worst forms, and contrasting the wretched drunkard falling, from degradation to degradation, into a dishonored grave, with the sober and vigorous man.  She had succeeded in imparting to Quadaquina her own abhorrence of the vice, and was cautious not to weaken the impression.

“Enough,” said Peena; “my son will grow up into a brave and good man; but if he despises Ohquamehud for his drunkenness, let him not forget he is his kinsman.  Hearken,” she added, earnestly, and drawing the boy nearer, while she lowered her voice; “does Quadaquina know that Ohquamehud hates the Longbeard?”

“Quadaquina’s ears and eyes are open,” said the boy.

“Ohquamehud’s feet will soon chase the setting sun,” continued Peena, “but before he starts the fire-water may try to make him do some foolish thing.  Quadaquina must have love enough for his kinsman to prevent the folly.”

“Not because Quadaquina loves, but because Ohquamehud is his father’s brother.”

“It is well.  Ohquamehud must do the Longbeard no harm, and Quadaquina must watch them both, and, if need be, warn the Longbeard of the danger.”