There was, however, something about the Indian, that alarmed the squaw, as she had never been before, notwithstanding the pacific language, with which he concluded. The time was drawing nigh for Ohquamehud's return to the West, and, knowing his brutal temper, she feared that under the influence of the spirituous liquors he indulged in to excess, he might attempt to signalize his departure by some act of wrong and revenge, which would bring down destruction on himself, and disastrously affect the fortunes of the tribe. He evidently cherished a bitter animosity toward Holden, whom he had recognized as a formidable enemy, and although a cool and wary savage when himself, and as capable of appreciating the consequences of an act as clearly as any one and therefore likely to be deterred from violence, there was no knowing what he might do, when stimulated by the frenzy that lurks in the seductive draught. Peena knew the difficulty, with which an Indian foregoes revenge, and her apprehensions were the more excited by the attachment she felt for the two white men. Fears, vague and unformed had before floated through her mind, but they now assumed consistency, and she determined to take such precautions until the departure of her kinsman as should prevent harm either to himself or others. With this view, the moment she was alone with her son, she seized the opportunity to speak on the subject of her alarm. But, first she thought it necessary to reprove him for his feelings towards his uncle. "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."