He turned towards her, and paused before he said—­

“The stone in the path of Ohquamehud is very small, and will not hurt his feet.”

“Peena, then, will try to remove it.  She has strength to move small stones.”

She ceased, and continued looking at him, without adding a word, as if she had said enough, and awaited a reply.

“Why should Ohquamehud speak?” he said, at last; “the breath of the Long Beard will blow away his words.”

A look of vacancy overspread the face of the squaw, as if she failed to apprehend his meaning.

“My brother’s words are dark,” she said.

“Has not the powawing of the Long Beard brought back the spirit of Huttamoiden’s cub from the happy hunting-grounds, and does not, therefore, the face of Peena turn to him as the sun-flower to the sun?”

“The Great Spirit loves the Long Beard, and the Long Beard loves his red brethren.”

“What! a Yenghese love an Indian?  Yes, as a wild-cat loves the deer when he sucks his blood, as the water loves the fire it extinguishes.  The lips of Peena speak foolishness.”

“If Peena feel grateful to the Long Beard, why should that anger her brother?  Could he look into her heart, he would see his face as in a clear stream.”

It was not in human nature to withstand the soft voice and pleading looks of the woman.  The momentary fierceness passed away from the countenance of the Indian, a milder expression assumed its place, and, in a gentle tone, he said—­

“Peena shall hear.  She is like a stone which, when spoken to, repeats not what is said, and not like a brook that sings an idle song.  My words shall enter her ears, but they will not descend to her tongue.  Listen! the Manitou has troubled my thoughts, and sent a bird to tell me, that the hands of the Long Beard are red with the blood of my brothers.”

“It was a lying bird,” she exclaimed vehemently; “it was an owl that hooted untruth from the dark.  When lifted the Long Beard a hatchet against my tribe?”

“The voice was as the voice of the waterfall,” he continued.  “It spoke indistinctly, and I understood but half.”

“Why should not Ohquamehud talk with the Long Beard?  The words of each shall be sweet to the other, and they will learn to have one heart.”

“It is well,” said the Indian, “Peena is a wise woman, and Ohquamehud will speak with the white man.”

It needed only the suggestion of the squaw to carry into effect a resolution already more than half adopted.

The Indian rose, and proceeding to the river, which was but a dozen rods distant from the hut, unloosed a canoe, and directing its course up the stream, was lost, in a few moments, from her view.