At these words the suppressed rage of the youthful warrior had well–nigh burst the iron bands of Indian self–control; he ground his teeth audibly together, his dilated form trembled through every nerve and muscle; but observing the keen eye of the missionary fixed upon his countenance, he subdued in a moment the rising tempest, and asked, in a voice the forced calmness of which was fearful, “What said my father?” Tamenund replied that the maiden was Great Medicine in the tribe, that she was a gift of the Great Spirit, and that her dwelling could never be in the lodge of an Osage chief. “He went away without speaking,” added the old man seriously; “but his eye spoke bad words enough!” “My father said well,” exclaimed the impetuous young man; “let Mahéga seek a wife among his dog–brothers the Dahcotahs! War–Eagle will smoke no more in his lodge.” After a brief pause, Tamenund continued: “My son has told half his thoughts, let him speak on.” “Nay,” returned the young warrior, “let my father consult the Medicine, and the counsellors who have seen many winters: War–Eagle will whisper to his braves, and when the ancient men in council have spoken, he will be ready.” With this ambiguous answer, he folded his buffalo robe over his shoulder and left the lodge. The missionary saw that mischief was brewing, yet knew not how to prevent it. He had gained extraordinary influence among the Delawares by never interfering in their councils, unless when he felt assured that the result would justify the advice which he offered; but on the present occasion it was evident that his Indian friends had sufficient grounds for suspecting their Osage allies of treachery; he resolved, therefore, to wait and observe, before making those attempts at reconciliation which became his character and his mission. Influenced by this determination, he spoke a few words to the aged chief on indifferent matters, and shortly afterwards retired to his own lodge.