[_He passes on_.
(_Two Indian Chiefs, in their war-dress, emerge from the thicket,
talking in suppressed tones_.)
_1st Chief_. Hoogh! Hoogh! Alaska fights to revenge his son,--we spill
our blood to revenge his son, and he thinks to win gifts besides. Hugh!
A brave chief he is!
_2nd Chief_. Your talk is not good, Manida. They are our enemies,--we
shall conquer them, we shall see their chestnut locks waving aloft, we
shall dance and shout all night around them, and the eyes of the maidens
shall meet ours in the merry ring, sparkling with joy, as we shout
"Victory! victory! our enemies are slain,--our foot is on their necks,
we have slain our enemies!" What more, Manida? Is it not enough?
_1st Chief_. No. I went last night with Alaska to the camp above, to the
tent of the young sachem of the lake, and he promised him presents, rich
and many, for an errand that a boy might do. I asked Alaska to send me
for him, and he would not.
_2nd Chief_. The young white sachem was Alaska's friend, many moons ago,
when Alaska was wounded and sick.
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