foes.
My brother, there's my hand--for I am grieved
That aught befell to shake our proper love.
Our purpose is too high, and full of danger;
We have too vast a quarrel on our hands
To waste our breath on this.

[_Steps forward and offers his hand_.]

PROPHET. My hand to yours.

SEVERAL CHIEFS. Tecumseh and the Prophet are rejoined!

TECUMSEH. Now, but one petty cloud distains our sky.
My brother, this man loves our people well.

[_Pointing to_ LEFROY.]

LEFROY. I know he hates me, yet I hope to win
My way into his heart.

PROPHET. There--take my hand! I must dissemble.
Would this palm were poison! (_Aside_.) (_To_
TECUMSEH)
What of the Wyandots? And yet I know!
I have been up among the clouds, and down
Into the entrails of the earth, and seen
The dwelling-place of devils. All my dreams
Are from above, and therefore favour us.