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. "Thy wife shall be my sister during her widowhood; thy children will never want game, until they can themselves strike the bounding deer."
The two Indians continued their way in silence, till at once the brother of the murdered one stopped.
"We shall soon reach the chiefs," said he; "I to revenge a brother's death, thou to quit for ever thy tribe and thy children, Hast thou a wish? Think, whisper!"
The murderer stood irresolute; his glance furtively took the direction of his lodge. The brother continued,--
"Go to thy lodge. I shall wait for thee till the setting of the sun, before the council door. Go! thy tongue is silent, but I know the wish of thy heart. Go!"
Such traits are common in Indian life. Distrust exists not among the children of the wilderness, until generated by the conduct of white men. These stories, and thousand others, all exemplifying the triumph of virtue and honour over baseness and vice, are every day narrated by the elders, in presence of the young men and children. The evening encampment is a great school of morals, where the red-skin philosopher embodies in his tales the sacred precepts of virtue. A traveller, could he understand what was said, as he viewed the scene, might fancy some of the sages of ancient Greece inculcating to their disciples those precepts of wisdom which have transmitted their name down to us bright and glorious, through more than twenty centuries.
I have stated that the holy men among the Indians, that is to say, the keepers of the sacred lodges, keep the records of the great deeds performed in the tribe; but a tribe will generally boast more of the great virtues of one of its men than of the daring of its bravest warriors. "A virtuous man," they say, "has the ear of the Manitou, he can tell him the sufferings of Indian nature, and ask him to soothe them."
