Tawasuota stood for a minute without speak-
ing, while his huge frame trembled like a mighty
pine beneath the thunderbolt.
"No," he said at last. "I shall go, but you
must remain. You are a woman, and the white
people need not know that your little boys are
mine. Bring them here to me this evening that
I may kiss them farewell."
The sun was hovering among the treetops
when they met again.
"Atay! atay!" ("Papa, papa!") the little
fellows cried out in spite of her cautions; but
the mother put her finger to her lips, and they
became silent. Tawasuota took each boy in his
arms, and held him close for a few moments;
he smiled to them, but large tears rolled down
his cheeks. Then he disappeared in the shad-
ows, and they never saw him again.
The chief soldier lived and died a warrior
and an enemy to the white man; but one of his
two sons became in after-years a minister of the
Christian gospel, under the "Long-Haired
Praying Man," Bishop Whipple, of Minnesota.
VI
THE WHITE MAN'S ERRAND
Upon the wide tableland that lies at the
back of a certain Indian agency, a camp
of a thousand teepees was pitched in a
circle, according to the ancient usage.
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