"I have nothing more to say to my father Running Water, or to my brother White Crow, than what they now already know; the expedition we are attempting is perilous, and must be carried out with prudence, not so much, perhaps, on account of our enemies themselves, as of the superstitious terrors with which they inspire our warriors."
"I understand the words of my son," the old chief replied; "they are serious. Running Water is renowned for his courage among his brothers; still he would not dare to attack the enemies whom the genius of evil protects and renders invincible."
The Stag concealed with difficulty a contemptuous smile, which was checked on his lips by the respect with which his father inspired him.
"Our own weakness partly forms the strength of our enemies," he replied, shaking his head sorrowfully; "the redskins are brave, but they are children who put faith in absurd things."
"My son," the old man said, sternly, "contact with the palefaces has injured you more than you suppose; without suspecting it, you have come to discuss the belief of your fathers, and turn it into ridicule. Take care, I repeat, my son; the road you are entering on is a bad one--it leads to a precipice; it is better to believe in an absurdity than fall into the contrary excess, and deny all belief. I will not lead my warriors against the persons whom you so obstinately insist on attacking."
"I do not ask it of you, father," the Stag replied, biting his lips in spite; "merely do what we agreed on, and that will be sufficient. I am willing to assume all the risks and perils of this expedition."
"The Stag is right," White Crow observed; "what danger do we incur in doing what he asks? Besides, even if we tried to prevent it, our warriors would not stand before them, but fly. Leave your son to act, Running Water; if on certain points contact with the whites has been injurious to him, it is evident that it will prove very useful to him for many others. He knows better than we do what is best to be done under the circumstances, and since he consents to assume all the responsibility, let him act as he pleases."
The old man shook his head several times, as if still far from being convinced.
"Be it so," he at length said, "since he fancies he has more wisdom beneath his black scalp than those whose hair has grown white at the council fire; let him act as he thinks proper. His father will henceforth be dumb, and will not cast the ice of his experience upon the fire of his ardent youth. Alas! Old customs are dying out. The Comanches are no longer worthy of their ancestors! The poison of the palefaces has penetrated to their villages. May the Wacondah grant that I have not lived too long, and that I may not see at an early day the ruin of my nation, as I have witnessed the ruin of its old laws and wise and simple customs."