The sound of his voice recalled the mind of Prairie–bird to a consciousness of what had passed. She answered not, but with a gesture of assent motioned to him to withdraw, and supporting herself against one of the trees that grew in front of her tent, she knelt beside it, and, veiling her face in the redundant tresses of her hair, found relief in a flood of tears. Overwhelmed by a sense of the merciful interposition by which she and her brother had been saved, and by a feeling of deep contrition for the sudden impulse of self–destruction to which, in a moment of mental agony, she had yielded, she thought neither of the continuance nor the withdrawing of the dark phenomenon of external nature, but of the evil gloom which had for the time eclipsed the light of grace in her heart, and the tears which bedewed her cheek were tears of mingled penitence and gratitude. Still, Nature held on her appointed course; after a few minutes the moon passed onward in her path, and the rays of the sun, no longer intercepted, again shed their brightness over earth and sky. The Osages, attributing these effects to the communing of Prairie–bird with the Great Spirit, stood in silent awe as she arose to retire to her tent, and her secret humiliation became, in their eyes, her triumph. Mahéga, finding that he had no pretext for refusing to release Wingenund, and that his warriors evidently expected him to fulfil his promise, ordered the youth to be unbound; and in the height of his generosity, desired that some food might be offered to him, which Wingenund scornfully rejected. The Osage chief having called aside two of those most devoted to him, spoke to them a few words apart; and then, addressing his liberated prisoner in the Delaware tongue, he said, “The Osage warriors will conduct Wingenund two hours on his journey: he will then be free to go where he likes; but if he is again found skulking round the Osage camp, nothing shall save his life.” Wingenund knew that he was to be turned loose in a desolate region, unarmed and half–starved, but his proud spirit would not permit him to ask the slightest boon of his enemy; and without a word of reply, without even directing a look towards his sister’s tent, he turned and followed his conductors.