“The Long–knives smoked the pipe of peace with us, we gave them meat and skins, and they gave us paint and blankets, and fire–weapons with Medicine–powder and lead,—all that was well; but who came with the Long–knives,—the Lenapé!” He paused a moment, then looking fiercely round, he continued in a louder strain; “and who are these Lenapé? They were beggars when they came to us! Their skin is red, but their hearts are pale. Do we not know the tale of their fathers? Were they not slaves to the warriors of other nations?[36] Were they not women? Did they not leave the war–path to plant maize, and drink the fire–water of the Long–knives? They gave up their hunting–ground; they left the bones of their fathers; they crossed the Ne–o–hunge[37], and asked for the friendship of the Washashe. We lighted the pipe for them; we received them like brothers, and opened to them our hunting–ground; but their hearts are bad to us, Washashes. Mahéga tells you that the Lenapé are snakes!” Another deep guttural sound, indicative of increased excitement, gratified the speaker’s ear, and he continued in a strain yet bolder: “Is Mahéga not a chief? Has he not struck the bodies of his enemies? Are there no scalps on his war–shirt? He was good to these Lenapé, he treated their warriors like brothers, he offered to make Olitipa his wife, they gave him bitter words and threw dirt upon his lodge. Shall the Washashe Chief be called a dog?” he exclaimed in a voice of thunder; “Shall he sit on the ground while a Lenapé spits in his face?” A shout of anger and fury burst from the audience, as, waving his hand impatiently for silence, he went on: “The Lenapé knew that their hearts were false, their arms weak, their tongues forked, and they have brought in a band of Long–knives to defend them and to drive the Washashe from their hunting–grounds. Shall it be so? Shall we hold our backs to be scourged like children? Shall we whine like starved wolves? See how the pale faces can insult your chief!” As he spoke, Mahéga tore the turban with one hand from his head, and holding up his severed scalp–lock with the other, while every muscle of his countenance worked with fury, “See what the hand of a white–face boy has done. Mahéga slept under a tree, and he whom they call Netis, the stranger who has eaten our meat and smoked with our chiefs, stole upon Mahéga, struck him on the head, and cut off his hair.” As he uttered this audacious falsehood, which was, of course, believed by all who heard him, a terrific shout burst from the assembled Osages, and the wily chief, striking while the iron was hot, went on:—