[Illustration: BLACK SNAKE.]

The eyes of the young warrior thus alluded to flashed with fierce
delight--his nostrils dilated with strong emotion. Passing with a
haughty stride in front of the Chiefs, displaying to all the bloody
trophies at his side, without dignity or feeling, but in an excited,
vindictive manner, he gave an exaggerated account of the foe and the
battle; spoke of the loss of the War Eagle; called on the young braves
to help revenge his death, swinging his tomahawk around the heads of the
prisoners, counting the scalps he had torn from the heads of their
people, forcing them in their faces with malignant pleasure, and calling
them women, who would cry when their tortures commenced. He said he only
waited to attend the joyful dance before going on the war-path to avenge
more fully the death of their Chief and earn the right to have a wigwam.
He howled his fierce demands for an opportunity to show his willingness
to execute the sentence the Chiefs should pass upon the prisoners. Then,
adroitly pleading his youth, he said he would not ask to lead the braves
on the war-path--he would follow where some braver one would lead.
Throwing the string of scalps among the crowd, he said the women might
have them to hang on their lodges--he was too young to carry them.
Feeling he had made sufficient impression of his bravery to leave the
decision in the hands of the Chiefs, without noticing his triumph in the
applauding multitude, his fiery eyes rolled proudly from Chief to Chief.
He passed with a haughty step before the Sachem, who had several times
rather depreciated his bravery, rejoicing in this public opportunity of
boasting a little before the Chiefs, evidently thinking it would greatly
contribute to his ambitious purposes and make a good impression on the
Sachem's dark-eyed daughter.