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Updated: June 19, 2025
The great oak was in a dense, deep-shadowed place, at the edge of the circle. A little to one side, close to the crowding thicket, was a small, new mound. Looking now at Tegakwita, Menard could see that his front was stained with the soil. Probably he had spent the day working on the mound for his sister.
Tegakwita stood by him, and without a word they stooped and set to work, side by side, scraping the earth with their fingers over the body. Tegakwita found a dozen little ways to delay. Menard steadily lost patience. "Tegakwita has forgotten," said the Indian, standing up; "he has not offered the present to his sister's Oki." "Well?" said Menard, roughly.
We will close this matter now, and go back to the village where your cowardly hands will be tied by fear of your chiefs. Drop your musket." "The Big Buffalo speaks in anger. Does he think to disarm Tegakwita that he may kill him?" "Lay your musket on the ground before us. Then I will drop the hatchet." Tegakwita stepped around the grave, and leaning the musket across a stone stood by it.
Menard smiled contemptuously, and spread out his hands; he had no weapon. But Tegakwita had a second thought, and dropped his hand. "Tegakwita, too, never speaks lies," he said. "He will come back before the sun has come again." He walked rapidly out, crowding roughly past the maid. Menajd leaned against the wall. "Poor boy!" he said, "poor boy!"
The Indian stood, without replying, looking down at him with brilliant, staring eyes. Menard spoke again. "You want me to go with you. You slip through the bushes like a snake, with your musket and your knife and your hatchet, to ask me to go with you to the grave of your sister. Do I speak rightly, Tegakwita?" "The Big Buffalo has understood."
Menard, too, looked scornful. He coolly waited. "The Big Buffalo cannot face the dead without a hatchet in his hand?" said Tegakwita. Menard suddenly sprang forward and snatched the hatchet from the Indian's belt. It was a surprise, and the struggle was brief. Tegakwita was thrown a step backward.
"He feels the love of a brother for those who would make sacrifices for him," he went on. "It was many years ago that he saved Tegakwita from the perils of the hunt. Tegakwita has not forgotten. When the White Chief became a captive, he had not forgotten. He has lost his brave name as a warrior because he believed in the White Chief.
"Wait, Mary. Do you know where the young white chief is?" "Yes. He tried to run away. He cannot run away from our warriors." "Are you afraid to go to him?" "My brother, Tegakwita, is guarding him. I am not afraid." Menard went to a young birch tree that stood near the hut, peeled off a strip of bark, and wrote on it: "If you try to escape again you will endanger my plans.
He lives under the trees, and carries his house with him. All that he has is in his hand or his belt. The Big Buffalo speaks strangely." Menard said nothing for a moment. He looked up, with a keen gaze, at the erect figure of the Indian. Finally he said: "Sit down, Tegakwita. Tell me why you came." "No. Tegakwita cannot rest himself until his sister has reached the Happy Hunting-Ground."
The Indian came rapidly over the grass with his finger at his lips. "Do not speak loud," he whispered. "Do not wake the holy Father." "Why do you come creeping upon my house at night, like a robber?" "Tegakwita is sad for his sister. His heart will not let him go among men about the village; it will not let his feet walk on the common path." "Why do you come?" "Tegakwita seeks the Big Buffalo."
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