“Thy wits are sharp,” replied Tecumseh. “But, brother, thou speakest of the stake, as you would order a fire for a morning meal. I would have your heart sorry at what you propose. The red men, not white, are those whose deaths you seek; remember, we have often given them our hands, we have smoked in their wigwams, and we have hunted the deer and buffalo with them far out on the prairies. If our plans require it, let your heart be sad.” “Ha! brother,” cried the Prophet, “art thou white livered? Dost thou talk of freeing thy country, when like a woman, thou dost sicken at thought of the stake? If thou canst not open the veins of a sleeping child, and lap its blood like a thirsty dog, I pray thee leave me; I will kindle the torch of war, and lead our warriors on, until not a tomahawk is left, which is not rusted red with the blood of the whites.” “And thou dost call me white livered, Elkswatawa,” said Tecumseh, his frame dilating, and his eyes glowing with indignation, “thou hast said so;—now did not the same current flow in our veins, and were we not travelling the same path to the same place, and to reach it requires that we should travel as friends, my tomahawk should drink thy blood, base slanderer as thou art. What! because when the sky is clear, I cannot dabble in the blood of the aged, nor derive pleasure from the scalping of children, thou shouldst brand me as a coward—thou! Elkswatawa! Thou art my brother, I must stop,—yet recollect this, when the battle rages, if thou, Elkswatawa, wilt follow Tecumseh in the fight, thy name shall be associated in future years with all that is noble and daring in Indian warfare.” And saying this he began to walk hurriedly to and fro. While Tecumseh was delivering the above, the Prophet stood cowering beneath his fierce glance, and appalled by the storm of passion he had raised; at length he answered: “Thy anger is strong, Tecumseh; it is a mighty wind, but Elkswatawa is a blasted tree; the wind passes by, and harms him not. Elkswatawa did not wish to touch the heart of his brother. When his brother is angry, he wants it to be with the pale faces and not with him. We have started upon a journey, and we have travelled a long way. We now find our path stopped up. Shall we turn back, or shall we clear it out, and go on? Elkswatawa says go on, clear it out; burn the red men who stop it up, and our path will then be open to our journey's end. Let us do this, brother, and then when they speak of the Prophet, they shall fear and tremble, and when he orders they will obey.” “Then be it so,” said Tecumseh, “I like it not, but, since our plans require it, let it be done.”