"Is the tongue of Ka-te-qua forked? Has she not said that no warrior
need hunt the deer for the young pale-faces? With her they shall grow
like hickory saplings, towering with strength. The deer shall not be
more fleet than they, nor the songs of the birds more glad. The sun
shall paint their white skins. The love of the red man shall enter their
hearts: they shall be as the young of our tribe. Unbind them! Give them
to Ka-te-qua, or by the next moon a burning fever shall fall upon you.
Like panthers will you bite the dust. All the waters of the great
cataract cannot quench your thirst, and your mightiest hunters will be
as women."

She paused. A fine-looking chieftain arose and spoke:

"The sister of the great Medicine-man has spoken well. She dwells alone
in her wigwam Her arm is strong. Her eye is keen, like the hawk's. The
deer fall before her, and her arrow can find the heart of the grizzly
bear. Her corn stands higher than the grass of the prairie. She can feed
the young pale-faces. The Great Spirit gives them to her. Let it be so."

A council was held at once. This time more than half the chieftains
passed the club on in silence, for Ka-te-qua, as I have said, was
respected among them; she had great powers of healing, and many of the
Indians regarded her with a superstitious reverence.

The children were unbound and borne in state to the old squaw's wigwam.
From that hour, though they were closely watched and guarded, their
lives were safe.

[Footnote 1: Mystery-man or Indian prophet.]