Having made a short halt, during which the pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian corn and honey set before their guests, the party again moved forward, under the guidance of War–Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley, they ascended the opposite hill, where a magnificent prospect opened upon their view; below them was an undulating prairie of boundless extent, through the middle of which ran a tributary branch of Grand River; behind them lay the verdant mass of forest from which they had lately emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the lodges of the Delawares and Osages, while scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses, gave life, animation, and endless variety to the scene. Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill, War–Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest by its superior size and elevation, and at the same time showed him at the other extremity of the encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which he described as being that of the Osage chief. “How is he called?” inquired Reginald. “Mahéga,” replied the War–Eagle. At the mention of this name, the guide uttered one of those peculiar sounds, something between a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew that something was passing in his mind; but on this occasion, without apparently noticing the interruption, he continued, addressing War–Eagle, “Will Mahéga receive me too as a brother—is the Osage chief a friend to the white men?” “Mahéga is a warrior,” replied the Indian; “he hunts with the Lenapé, and he must be a friend of their brother.” Not only did this answer appear evasive, but there was also something more than usually constrained in the tone and manner of War–Eagle, which did not escape the observation of Reginald, and with the straightforward openness of his character, he said, “War–Eagle, my heart is open to you, and my tongue can be silent if required—speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahéga is a friend or not; is he a brave or a snake?” War–Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Reginald’s countenance, replied, “Mahéga is a warrior—the scalps in his lodge are many—his name is not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenapé—War–Eagle will not speak of him:—Grande–Hâche knows him, and my brother’s eyes will be open.” Having thus spoken, the young chief added a few words in his own tongue to Baptiste; and making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he galloped off at speed towards the encampment. Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to the guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also the meaning of War–Eagle’s last words.