I have given unto him the flower of the
magnolia. She is the lily that grew by the side of the stream, and under
the sycamore. I have done well, I have done much, yet not enough for a
great chief, not enough for a brother, not enough for justice! Sages,
warriors, hear me all. The Flower of the Magnolia can lie but upon the
bosom of a chief. My brother must become a chief. He is a chief, for I
divide with him the power I possess: my wealth, my lodge, are his own;
my horses, my mules, my furs, and all! A chief has but one life, and it
is a great gift that cannot be paid too highly. You have heard my words.
I have said!"
This sounds very much like a romance, but it is an Apache story, related
of one of their great chiefs, during one of their evening encampments.
An Apache having, in a moment of passion, accidentally killed one of the
tribe, hastened to the chiefs to deliver himself up to justice. On his
way he was met by the brother of his victim, upon whom, according to
Indian laws, fell the duty of revenge and retaliation. They were
friends, and shook hands together.
"Yet I must kill thee, friend," said the brother.
"Thou wilt!" answered the murderer, "it is thy duty; but wilt thou not
remember the dangers we have passed together, and provide and console
those I leave behind in my lodge?"
"I will," answered the brother.
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