Meanwhile Prairie–bird having prayed earnestly to Heaven to support her, and pardon the deceit which she was about to practise, dressed herself with more than usual care, and coming forth from her tent, stood before Mahéga with a dignity of demeanour, to the effect of which even his fierce and intractable nature was not insensible. He rose not, however, at her approach, but contented himself with inquiring, “Has Olitipa come to save her brother’s life, or to kill him?” “Neither,” replied the maiden, firmly; “she is come to give good counsel to Mahéga; let him beware how he neglects it!” “Let not Olitipa’s speech travel in circles,” said the angry chief. “Mahéga has said that this day she should consent to be his wife, or she must see that feeble boy burnt before her eyes,—there are but two paths,—which does Olitipa choose?” “The feet of foolish men often wander where there is no path at all,” replied Prairie–bird; and she added, with solemnity, pointing upward to Heaven: “There is only _one_ path, and one Guide, the Great Spirit who dwells above!” Those of the Osages who were familiar with the Delaware tongue in which she was speaking, looked at each other, as if wondering at her words, but Mahéga, whose passion was only increased by her exceeding beauty, answered vehemently, “It is easy for Olitipa to talk and to make children believe that her words are those of the Great Spirit—Mahéga is not a child.” “If he compare his strength with that of the Great Spirit,” said the maiden, boldly, “Mahéga’s is less than the least finger of a child. Who can tell the power of the Great Spirit? The strong wind is his breath,—the thunder is his voice,—the sun is his smile. If He is angry and withdraws the sun, day is turned into night—darkness and fear dwell in the hearts of men.” The energy of her language and manner were not altogether without their effect even upon the stern nature of Mahéga; nevertheless, he replied, “These are but the notes of singing–birds. Mahéga waits for the choice of Olitipa,—she becomes his wife, or the fire is kindled at the feet of Wingenund.” Prairie–bird cast an anxious glance athwart the blue vault above; not a cloud was in the sky, and the sun shone with the full brightness of an American July. She would not yet abandon hope, but, making a strong and successful effort to maintain her composure, she said in a firm, impressive tone, “Mahéga, let there be a bargain between us; you seek Olitipa for a wife; if it be the will of the Great Spirit, she will submit, and her brother’s life will be spared; but if the Great Spirit is displeased, and shows his anger by drawing a cloak over the face of that bright sun in the heavens, Mahéga will obey His will, and let the brother of Olitipa go away unhurt.—Is Mahéga content that it shall be so? “He is,” replied the chief, “if the sign be such as he and the Osage warriors may look upon with wonder; not a mist, or dark cloud.”