The Great Spirit of her forefathers had now wrought in her soul deep convictions of the duty that she owed to her mother, her brother, and especially to her kind young friend who lived in the great mansion-house. The stories that she had heard recited around the lodge’s fire of the presents made by the great white chief, James Greydon, to her people, surged through her mind. How kind and gentle he had always been to the Indians! her kinsfolk! Those were happy days before the white men had learned the beauties of their old home on the Monongahela! All the native traits of her race were aroused. Many times she reasoned thus: “I can never forgive an injury, nor can I ever forget hospitality and kindness. My heart bleeds to show the King, our father across the sea, what great wrong has been done my loved ones, when he sent the great white birds across the sea that caused the eagle to scream on high. “My Manitou will bless his Segwuna and teach his daughter to show the King that when my sky was clear he ought not to send his warlike birds on the long journey across the water. The King’s warriors shall not prosper on this side of the great water. Segwuna, the handmaid of the Great Spirit, shall take her friends over the river, across which the King’s warriors can not pass. While her friends shall be happy and have plenty, from this time forth the King shall remain on the other side of the river and wither and die, because he was so avaricious.” The small band of Indians at Dorminghurst learned to love and revere Segwuna. As she grew older she stored up the herbs of the forest and showed great skill in nursing and curing the young and old of lesser ailments. The test of the young prophetess came in the year 1774. The severe storms and heavy snows of the winter made game very scarce and the Indians were near starvation. They had, therefore, occasion to try the arts of Segwuna to determine the range of the game. So the chief of the band came into the lodge of Segwuna’s mother and requested that her daughter be allowed to try her skill to relieve them. The mother laid the request before Segwuna and gained her consent. The prophetess directed the chief to build the prophet’s lodge of ten posts or saplings, each of different kinds of wood that she named. When finished and tightly wound with skins, Segwuna went inside and took a small drum and rattles with her. The whole band assembled around. The chief put the question to the prophetess: “Where shall game be found?” As if from some supernatural power the drum sounded within the lodge, and a voice was heard chanting, while the whole structure began to shake violently, and the people without began to shriek and moan as though to recognize the presence of the Great Spirit that was consulted. A silence fell suddenly upon the lodge, and the people now looked for an answer to their question. A voice then arose as from the top of the lodge, which said in slow and sepulchral tones: