And here we may pause to observe how the strange contradictions that are found in the human character frequently produce a line of conduct which would, at first sight, appear irreconcilable with all probability, and yet which is in strict accordance with the secret workings of the wayward will by which it is directed. Thus Mahéga, when he first became smitten with the beauty of Prairie–bird in the Delaware camp, where she was surrounded by friends and protectors, wooed her with the rough impetuosity of his nature, and, finding his advances rejected, he resorted, as we have seen, to brutal violence, his passion being so much heightened by the obstacles which it encountered, that, in order to gratify it, he provoked that quarrel with the Delawares in which so much blood, both of his own people and of his allies, had been already shed. Now that he was triumphant, and felt secure of the person of his captive, a new and ardent desire had arisen within him,—a desire to compel her to love him. In this pursuit, also, his proud and haughty spirit led him to anticipate success; and thus, for a time, the darker and more malignant feelings of his bosom slumbered undisturbed. One evening, when he had held his customary talk with Prairie–bird, he retired to his lodge, and the maiden to her tent, where she took up her long–neglected guitar, and ran her fingers carelessly through its strings. Lita sat by her side, braiding the front of a pair of mocassins with stained quills of the porcupine; and, although neither sigh nor tear betrayed her feelings, Prairie–bird, whose heart now led her intuitively to dive into that of her companion, saw that sad and busy thoughts were there: the Comanche girl, proud and reserved as she was with others, had been won, by the gentleness of her mistress, to entertain for her an attachment, that was now strengthened and cemented by the trials and dangers which they had shared together. It might, indeed, be supposed that, as both were now captives of the chief of another tribe, the relation of distress and servant had ceased; yet Lita seemed to think otherwise, and her attendance upon Prairie–bird was, if possible, more devoted than before. “For whom are you ornamenting those mocassins, Lita?” inquired the latter, with a sad smile. “For whom?” repeated Lita, casting up her dark eyes, and fixing them on her mistress as if she would read her soul. The tone in which the exclamation was uttered, and the look by which it was accompanied, assured Prairie–bird that her conjectures were well founded. When the heart is full, one overflowing drop tells the contents of the golden chalice; and from the two words spoken by her companion, Olitipa gathered her meaning as well as if she had replied, “Is there any other being on earth but one for whom I can be braiding them?”