"The Wacondah is powerful," the Indian continued; "it is he who dictates the words my breast breathes; the sturdy oak forgets that he has been a frail sapling." "Explain yourself, Chief," the hunter said, with great agitation; "the sound of your voice causes me singular emotion; your features are not unknown to me; speak, who are you?" "Singing-bird," the Indian said, addressing the young woman, "you are the _cihuatl_ of a Sachem; ask the great Pale hunter why he has forgotten his friend--the man who, in happier times, was his brother?" "I will obey," she answered, in a melodious voice; "but the Chief is deceived; the great Pale hunter has not forgotten the Wah-rush-a-menec of the Snake Pawnees." "Oh!" Tranquil exclaimed, warmly, "Are you really Black-deer, my brother? My heart warned me secretly of your presence, and though your features had almost faded from my memory, I expected to find a friend again." "Wah! is the Paleface speaking the truth?" the Chief said, with an emotion he could not quite conceal; "Has he really retained the memory of his brother, Black-deer?" "Ah, Chief," the hunter said, sadly; "to doubt any longer would be an insult to me; how could I suppose I should ever meet you here, at so considerable a distance from the wigwams of your nation?" "That is true?" the Indian remarked, thoughtfully; "my brother will forgive me." "What!" Tranquil exclaimed, "Is that charming squaw I see there, the Singing-bird, that frail child whom I so often tossed on my knee?" "Singing-bird is the wife of a Chief," the Indian answered, flattered by the compliment; "at the next fall of the leaves forty-five moons will have passed since Black-deer bought her of her father for two mustangs and a panther skin quiver." Singing-bird smiled gracefully at the hunter, and went on with her duties. "Will the Chief permit me to ask him a question?" Tranquil went on. "My brother can speak, the ears of a friend are open." "How did the Sachem learn that he would find me here?" "Black-deer was ignorant of it: he was not seeking the great Pale hunter; the Wacondah has permitted him to find a friend again, and he is grateful." Tranquil looked at the warrior in surprise. He smiled. "Black-deer has no secret from his brother," he said, softly; "the Pale hunter will wait; soon he shall know all." "My brother is free to speak or be silent; I will wait." The conversation ceased here. The Sachem had wrapped himself in his buffalo robe, and did not appear disposed, to give any further explanation at present. Tranquil, restrained by the duties of hospitality, which in the desert prohibit any interrogation of a guest; imitated the Chiefs reserve; but the silence had lasted but a few minutes, when the hunter felt a light hand laid on his shoulder, while a soft and affectionate voice murmured in his ear:--"Good morning, father." And a kiss completed the silence. "Good-morning, little one," the hunter replied, with a smile; "did you sleep well?"