No man was ever yet injured, that he has not been
slandered.
"Who kill and scalp my young man?" asked Cloud, a little abruptly.
"Has my brother lost a warrior?" was the calm reply. "Yes, I see
that he has. A medicine-man can see that, though it is dark."
"Who kill him, if can see?-who scalp him, too?"
"An enemy did both," answered le Bourdon, oracularly. "Yes; 'twas an
enemy that killed him; and an enemy that took his scalp."
"Why do it, eh? Why come here to take Pottawattamia scalp, when no
war-path open, eh?"
"Pottawattamie, the truth must always be said to a medicine-man.
There is no use in trying to hide truth from HIM. There IS a war-
path open; and a long and a tangled path it is. My Great Father at
Washington has dug up the hatchet against my Great Father at Quebec.
Enemies always take scalps when they can get them."
"Dat true--dat right, too--nobody grumble at DAT--but who enemy?
pale-face or red-skin?"
"This time it was a red-skin--a Chippewa--one of your own nation,
though not of your own tribe. A warrior called Pigeonswing, whom you
had in thongs, intending to torture him in the morning. He cut his
thongs, and shot your young man--after which he took his scalp.
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