The raptures of a conqueror's mood
Rushed burning through his frame;
The depths of that green solitude
Its torrents could not tame,
Though stillness lay, with eve's last smile,
Round those far fountains of the Nile
--MRS HEMANS.
When the bee-hunter and Corporal Flint thus went forth in midnight, from
the “garrison” of Castle Meal (Chateau au Miel), as the latter would
have expressed it, it was with no great apprehension of meeting any
other than a four-footed enemy, notwithstanding the blast of the horn
the worthy corporal supposed he had heard. The movements of the dog
seemed to announce such a result rather than any other, for Hive was
taken along as a sort of guide. Le Bourdon, however, did not permit his
mastiff to run off wide, but, having the animal at perfect command, it
was kept close to his own person.
The two men first moved toward the grove of the Kitchen, much to Hive's
discontent. The dog several times halted, and he whined, and growled,
and otherwise manifested his great dislike to proceed in that direction.
At length so decided did his resistance become, that his master said to
his companion:
“It seems to me best, corporal, to let the mastiff lead us. I have never
yet seen him so set on not going in one way, and on going in another.
Hive has a capital nose, and we may trust him.”
“Forward,” returned the corporal, wheeling short in the direction of
the dog; “one thing should be understood, however, Bourdon, which is
this--you must act as light troops in this sortie, and I as the main
body. If we come on the inimy, it will be your duty to skrimmage in
front as long as you can, and then fall back on your resarves. I shall
depend chiefly on the baggonet, which is the best tool to put an Injin
up with; and as he falls back, before my charge, we must keep him under
as warm a fire as possible. Having no cavalry, the dog might be made
useful in movements to the front and on our flanks.”
“Pooh, pooh, corporal, you're almost as much set in the notions of your
trade as Parson Amen is set in his idees about the lost tribes. In
my opinion there'll be more tribes FOUND in these openings before the
summer is over than we shall wish to meet. Let us follow the dog, and
see what will turn up.” Hive WAS followed, and he took a direction that
led to a distant point in the openings, where not only the trees were
much thicker than common, but where a small tributary of the Kalamazoo
ran through a ravine, from the higher lands adjacent into the main
artery of all the neighboring watercourses. The bee-hunter knew the
spot well, having often drank at the rivulet, and cooled his brow in the
close shades of the ravine, when heated by exertions in the more
open grounds. In short, the spot was one of the most eligible for
concealment, coolness, and pure water, within several miles of Castle
Meal. The trees formed a spacious grove around it, and, by means of the
banks, their summits and leaves answered the purpose of a perfect screen
to those who might descend into the ravine, or, it would be better to
say, to the bottom. Le Bourdon was no sooner satisfied that his mastiff
was proceeding toward the great spring which formed the rivulet at the
head of the ravine mentioned, than he suspected Indians might be there.
He had seen signs about the spot, which wore an appearance of its having
been used as a place of encampment--or for “camping out,” as it is
termed in the language of the west--and, coupling the sound of the horn
with the dog's movements, his quick apprehension seized on the facts as
affording reasonable grounds of distrust. Consequently he resorted to
great caution, as he and the corporal entered the wood which surrounded
the spring, and the small oval bit of bottom that lay spread before it,
like a little lawn. Hive was kept close at his master's side, though
he manifested a marked impatience to advance. “Now, corporal,” said the
bee-hunter in a low tone, “I think we have lined some savages to their
holes. We will go round the basin and descend to the bottom, in a close
wood which grows there. Did you see that?”
“I suppose I did,” answered the corporal, who was as firm as a rock.
“You meant to ask me if I saw fire?”
“I did. The red men have lighted their council fire in this spot,
and have met to talk around it. Well, let 'em hearken to each other's
thoughts, if they will; we shall be neither the better nor the worse for
it.”
“I don't know that. When the commander-in-chief calls together his
principal officers, something usually comes of it. Who knows but this
very council is called in order to take opinions on the subject of
besieging or of storming our new garrison? Prudent soldiers should
always be ready for the worst.”
“I have no fear, so long as Peter is with us. That chief is listened to
by every red-skin; and while we have him among us there will be little
to care for. But we are getting near to the bottom and must work our way
through these bushes with as little noise as possible. I will keep the
dog quiet.”
The manner in which that sagacious animal now behaved was truly
wonderful. Hive appeared to be quite as much aware of the necessity
of extreme caution as either of the men, and did not once attempt to
precede his master his own length. On one or two occasions he actually
discovered the best passages, and led his companions through them with
something like the intelligence of a human being. Neither growl nor bark
escaped him; on the contrary, even the hacking breathing of an impatient
dog was suppressed, precisely as if the animal knew how near he was
getting to the most watchful ears in the world.
After using the greatest care, the bee-hunter and the corporal got just
such a station as they desired. It was within a very few feet of the
edge of the cover, but perfectly concealed, while small openings enabled
them to see all that was passing in their front. A fallen tree, a relic
of somewhat rare occurrence in the openings of Michigan, even furnished
them with a seat, while it rendered their position less exposed. Hive
placed himself at his master's side, apparently trusting to other senses
than that of sight for his information, since he could see nothing of
what was going on in front.
As soon as the two men had taken their stations, and began to look about
them, a feeling of awe mingled with their curiosity. Truly, the scene
was one so very remarkable and imposing that it might have filled more
intellectual and better fortified minds with some such sensation.
The fire was by no means large, nor was it particularly bright; but
sufficient to cast a dim light on the objects within reach of its rays.
It was in the precise centre of a bit of bottom land of about half an
acre in extent, which was so formed and surrounded, as to have something
of the appearance of the arena of a large amphitheatre. There was one
break in the encircling rise of ground, it is true, and that was at
a spot directly opposite the station of le Bourdon and his companion,
where the rill which flowed from the spring found a passage out toward
the more open ground. Branches shaded most of the mound, but the arena
itself was totally free from all vegetation but that which covered the
dense and beautiful sward with which it was carpeted. Such is a brief
description of the natural accessories of this remarkable scene.
But it was from the human actors, and their aspects, occupations,
movements, dress, and appearance generally, that the awe which came
over both the bee-hunter and the corporal had its origin. Of these, near
fifty were present, offering a startling force by their numbers alone.
Each man was a warrior, and each warrior was in his paint. These were
facts that the familiarity of the two white men with Indian customs
rendered only too certain. What was still more striking was the fact
that all present appeared to be chiefs; a circumstance which went to
show that an imposing body of red men was most likely somewhere in the
openings, and that too at no great distance. It was while observing and
reflecting on all these things, a suspicion first crossed the mind of le
Bourdon that this great council was about to be held, at that midnight
hour, and so near his own abode, for the purpose of accommodating Peter,
whose appearance in the dark crowd, from that instant, he began to
expect.
The Indians already present were not seated. They stood in groups
conversing, or stalked across the arena, resembling so many dark and
stately spectres. No sound was heard among them, a circumstance that
added largely to the wild and supernatural aspect of the scene. If any
spoke, it was in a tone so low and gentle, as to carry the sound no
farther than to the ears that were listening; two never spoke at
the same time and in the same group, while the moccasin permitted no
footfall to be audible. Nothing could have been more unearthly than the
picture presented in that little, wood-circled arena, of velvet-like
grass and rural beauty. The erect, stalking forms, half naked, if not
even more; the swarthy skins; the faces fierce in the savage conceits
which were intended to strike terror into the bosoms of enemies, and the
glittering eyes that fairly sparkled in their midst, all contributed to
the character of the scene, which le Bourdon rightly enough imagined was
altogether much the most remarkable of any he had ever been in the way
of witnessing.
Our two spectators might have been seated on the fallen tree half an
hour, all of which time they had been gazing at what was passing before
their eyes; with positively not a human sound to relieve the unearthly
nature of the picture. No one spoke, coughed, laughed, or exclaimed, in
all that period. Suddenly, every chief stood still, and all the faces
turned in the same direction. It was toward the little gateway of the
rill, which being the side of the arena most remote from the bee-hunter
and the corporal, lay nearly in darkness as respected them. With the red
men it must have been different, for THEY all appeared to be in intent
expectation of some one from that quarter. Nor did they have to wait
long; for, in half a minute, two forms came out of the obscurity,
advancing with a dignified and deliberate tread to the centre of
the arena. As these newcomers got more within the influence of the
flickering light, le Bourdon saw that they were Peter and Parson Amen.
The first led, with a slow, imposing manner, while the other followed,
not a little bewildered with what he saw. It may be as well to explain
here, that the Indian was coming alone to this place of meeting, when
he encountered the missionary wandering among the oaks, looking for le
Bourdon and the corporal, and, instead of endeavoring to throw off this
unexpected companion, he quietly invited him to be of his own party.
It was evident to le Bourdon, at a glance, that Peter was expected,
though it was not quite so clear that such was the fact as regarded
his companion. Still, respect for the great chief prevented any
manifestations of surprise or discontent, and the medicine-man of the
pale-faces was received with as grave a courtesy as if he had been an
invited guest. Just as the two had entered the dark circle that formed
around them, a young chief threw some dry sticks on the fire, which
blazing upward, cast a stronger light on a row of as terrifically
looking countenances as ever gleamed on human forms. This sudden
illumination, with its accompanying accessories, had the effect to
startle all the white spectators, though Peter looked on the whole with
a calm like that of the leafless tree, when the cold is at its height,
and the currents of the wintry air are death-like still Nothing appeared
to move HIM, whether expected or not; though use had probably accustomed
his eye to all the aspects in which savage ingenuity could offer savage
forms. He even smiled, as he made a gesture of recognition, which
seemed to salute the whole group. It was just then, when the fire burned
brightest, and when the chiefs pressed most within its influence, that
le Bourdon perceived that his old acquaintances, the head-men of the
Pottawattamies, were present, among the other chiefs so strangely and
portentously assembled in these grounds, which he had so long possessed
almost entirely to himself.
A few of the oldest of the chiefs now approached Peter, and a low
conversation took place between them. What was said did not reach le
Bourdon, of course; for it was not even heard in the dark circle of
savages who surrounded the fire. The effect of this secret dialogue,
however, was to cause all the chiefs to be seated, each taking his place
on the grass; the whole preserving the original circle around the fire.
Fortunately, for the wishes of le Bourdon, Peter and his companions took
their stations directly opposite to his own seat, thus enabling him to
watch every lineament of that remarkable chief's still more remarkable
countenance. Unlike each and all of the red men around him, the face of
Peter was not painted, except by the tints imparted by nature; which, in
his case, was that of copper a little tarnished, or rendered dull by the
action of the atmosphere. The bee-hunter could distinctly trace every
lineament; nor was the dark roving eye beyond the reach of his own
vision. Some attention was given to the fire, too, one of the younger
chiefs occasionally throwing on it a few dried sticks, more to keep
alive the flame, and to renew the light, than from any need of warmth.
One other purpose, however, this fire DID answer; that of enabling
the young chiefs to light the pipes that were now prepared; it seldom
occurring that the chiefs thus assembled without SMOKING around their
council-fire.
As this smoking was just then more a matter of ceremony than for any
other purpose, a whiff or two suffices for each chief; the smoker
passing the pipe to his neighbor as soon as he had inhaled a few puffs.
The Indians are models of propriety, in their happiest moods, and every
one in that dark and menacing circle was permitted to have his turn
with the pipe, before any other step was taken. There were but two pipes
lighted, and mouths being numerous, some time was necessary in order
to complete this ceremony. Still, no sign of impatience was seen, the
lowest chief having as much respect paid to his feelings, as related
to his attention, as the highest. At length the pipes completed their
circuit, even Parson Amen getting, and using, his turn, when a dead
pause succeeded. The silence resembled that of a Quaker meeting, and
was broken only by the rising of one of the principal chiefs, evidently
about to speak. The language of the great Ojebway nation was used on
this occasion, most of the chiefs present belonging to some one of the
tribes of that stock, though several spoke other tongues, English and
French included. Of the three whites present, Parson Amen alone fully
comprehended all that was said, he having qualified himself in this
respect, to preach to the tribes of that people; though le Bourdon
understood nearly all, and even the corporal comprehended a good deal.
The name of the chief who first spoke at this secret meeting, which was
afterward known among the Ojebways by the name of the “Council of the
Bottom Land, near to the spring of gushing water,” was Bear's Meat, an
appellation that might denote a distinguished hunter, rather than an
orator of much renown.
“Brothers of the many tribes of the Ojebways,” commenced this personage,
“the Great Spirit has permitted us to meet in council. The Manitou of
our fathers is now among these oaks, listening to our words, and looking
in at our hearts. Wise Indians will be careful what they say in such a
presence, and careful of what they think. All should be said and thought
for the best. We are a scattered nation, and the time is come when we
must stop in our tracks, or travel beyond the sound of each other's
cries. If we travel beyond the hearing of our people, soon will our
children learn tongues that Ojebway ears cannot understand. The mother
talks to her child, and the child learns her words. But no child can
hear across a great lake. Once we lived near the rising sun. Where are
we now? Some of our young men say they have seen the sun go down in the
lakes of sweet water. There can be no hunting-grounds beyond THAT spot;
and if we would live, we must stand still in our tracks. How to do this,
we have met to consider.
“Brothers, many wise chiefs and braves are seated at this council-fire.
It is pleasant to my eyes to look upon them. Ottawas, Chippeways,
Pottawattamies, Menominees, Hurons, and all. Our father at Quebec has
dug up the hatchet against the Yankees. The war-path is open between
Detroit and all the villages of the red men. The prophets are speaking
to our people, and we listen. One is here; he is about to speak. The
council will have but a single sense, which will be that of hearing.”
Thus concluding, Bear's Meat took his seat, in the same composed
and dignified manner as that in which he had risen, and deep silence
succeeded. So profound was the stillness, that, taken in connection with
the dark lineaments, the lustrous eyeballs that threw back the light
of the fire, the terrific paint and the armed hands of every warrior
present, the picture might be described as imposing to a degree that
is seldom seen in the assemblies of the civilized. In the midst of this
general but portentous calm, Peter arose. The breathing of the circle
grew deeper, so much so as to be audible, the only manner in which
the intensity of the common expectation betrayed itself. Peter was an
experienced orator, and knew how to turn every minutiae of his art to
good account. His every movement was deliberate, his attitude highly
dignified--even his eye seemed eloquent.
Oratory! what a power art thou, wielded, as is so often the case, as
much for evil as for good. The very reasoning that might appear to
be obtuse, or which would be over looked entirely when written and
published, issuing from the mouth, aided by the feelings of sympathy and
the impulses of the masses, seems to partake of the wisdom of divinity.
Thus is it, also, with the passions, the sense of wrong, the appeals
to vengeance, and all the other avenues of human emotion. Let them be
addressed to the cold eye of reason and judgment, in the form of written
statements, and the mind pauses to weigh the force of arguments, the
justice of the appeals, the truth of facts: but let them come upon the
ear aided by thy art, with a power concentrated by sympathy, and the
torrent is often less destructive in its course, than that of the
whirlwind that thou canst awaken!
“Chiefs of the great Ojebway nation, I wish you well,” said Peter,
stretching out his arms toward the circle, as if desirous of embracing
all present. “The Manitou has been good to me. He has cleared a path to
this spring, and to this council-fire. I see around it the faces of many
friends. Why should we not all be friendly? Why should a red man ever
strike a blow against a red man? The Great Spirit made us of the same
color, and placed us on the same hunting-grounds. He meant that we
should hunt in company; not take each other's scalps. How many warriors
have fallen in our family wars? Who has counted them? Who can say?
Perhaps enough, had they not been killed, to drive the pale-faces into
the sea!”
Here Peter, who as yet had spoken only in a low and barely audible
voice, suddenly paused, in order to allow the idea he had just thrown
out to work on the minds of his listeners. That it was producing its
effect was apparent by the manner in which one stern face turned toward
another, and eye seemed to search in eye some response to a query that
the mind suggested, though no utterance was given to it with the tongue.
As soon, however, as the orator thought time sufficient to impress
that thought on the memories of the listeners had elapsed, he resumed,
suffering his voice gradually to increase in volume, as he warmed with
his subject.
“Yes,” he continued, “the Manitou has been very kind. Who is the
Manitou? Has any Indian ever seen him? Every Indian has seen him. No one
can look on the hunting-grounds, on the lakes, on the prairies, on the
trees, on the game, without seeing his hand. His face is to be seen in
the sun at noonday; his eyes in the stars at night. Has any Indian
ever heard the Manitou? When it thunders, he speaks. When the crash is
loudest, then he scolds. Some Indian has done wrong. Perhaps one red man
has taken another red man's scalp!”
Another pause succeeded, briefer, and less imposing than the first, but
one that sufficed to impress on the listeners anew, the great evil of an
Indian's raising his hand against an Indian.
“Yes, there is no one so deaf as not to hear the voice of the Great
Spirit when he is angry,” resumed Peter. “Ten thousands of buffalo
bulls, roaring together, do not make as much noise as his whisper.
Spread the prairies, and the openings, and the lakes, before him, and he
can be heard in all, and on all, at the same time.
“Here is a medicine-priest of the pale-faces; he tells me that the voice
of the Manitou reaches into the largest villages of his people, beneath
the rising sun, when it is heard by the red man across the great lakes,
and near the rocks of the setting sun. It is a loud voice; woe to him
who does not remember it. It speaks to all colors, and to every people,
and tribe, and nation.
“Brothers, that is a lying tradition which says, there is one Manitou
for a Sac, and another for the Ojebway--one Manitou for the red man, and
another for the pale-face. In this, we are alike. One Great Spirit
made all; governs all; rewards all; punishes all. He may keep the happy
hunting-grounds of an Indian separate from the white man's heaven,
for he knows that their customs are different, and what would please a
warrior would displease a trader; and what would please a trader would
displease a warrior. He has thought of these things, and has made
several places for the spirits of the good, let their colors be what
they may. Is it the same with the places of the spirits of the bad? I
think not. To me it would seem best to let THEM go together, that they
may torment one another. A wicked Indian and a wicked pale-face would
make a bad neighborhood. I think the Manitou will let THEM go together.
“Brothers, if the Manitou keeps the good Indian and the good pale-face
apart in another world, what has brought them together in this? If he
brings the bad spirits of all colors together in another world, why
should they come together here, before their time? A place for wicked
spirits should not be found on earth. This is wrong; it must be looked
into.
“Brothers, I have now done; this pale-face wishes to speak, and I have
said that you would hear his words. When he has spoken his mind, I
may have more to tell you. Now, listen to the stranger. He is a
medicine-priest of the white men, and says he has a great secret to tell
our people--when he has told it, I have another for their ears too. Mine
must be spoken when there is no one near but the children of red clay.”
Having thus opened the way for the missionary, Peter courteously took
his seat, producing a little disappointment among his own admirers,
though he awakened a lively curiosity to know what this medicine-priest
might have to say on an occasion so portentous. The Indians in the
regions of the great lakes had long been accustomed to missionaries, and
it is probable that even some of their own traditions, so far as they
related to religious topics, had been insensibly colored by, if not
absolutely derived from, men of this character; for the first whites
who are known to have penetrated into that portion of the continent were
Jesuits, who carried the cross as their standard and emblem of peace.
Blessed emblem! that any should so confound their own names and
denunciatory practices with the revealed truth, as to imagine that a
standard so appropriate should ever be out of season and place, when it
is proper for man to use aught, at all, that is addressed to his senses,
in the way of symbols, rites, and ceremonies! To the Jesuits succeeded
the less ceremonious and less imposing priesthood of America, as America
peculiarly was in the first years that followed the Revolution. There is
reason to believe that the spirit of God, in a greater or less degree,
accompanied all; for all were self-denying and zealous, though the
fruits of near two centuries of labor have, as yet, amounted to little
more than the promise of the harvest at some distant day. Enough,
however, was known of the missionaries, and their views in general,
to prepare the council, in some small degree, for the forthcoming
exhibition.
Parson Amen had caught some of the habits of the Indians, in the course
of years of communication and intercourse. Like them he had learned to
be deliberate, calm, and dignified in his exterior; and, like them, he
had acquired a sententious mode of speaking.
“My children,” he said, for he deemed it best to assume the parental
character, in a scene of so great moment, “as Peter has told you, the
spirit of God is among you! Christians know that such has he promised
to be always with his people, and I see faces in this circle that I am
ready to claim as belonging to those who have prayed with me, in days
that are long past. If your souls are not touched by divine love, it
does not kill the hope I entertain of your yet taking up the cross, and
calling upon the Redeemer's name. But, not for this have I come with
Peter, this night. I am now here to lay before you an all-important
fact, that Providence has revealed to me, as the fruit of long labor in
the vineyard of study and biblical inquiry. It is a tradition--and red
men love traditions--it is a tradition that touches your own history,
and which it will gladden your hearts to hear, for it will teach you how
much your nation and tribes have been the subject of the especial care
and love of the Great Spirit. When my children say, speak, I shall be
ready to speak.”
Here the missionary took his seat, wisely awaiting a demonstration on
the part of the council, ere he ventured to proceed any further. This
was the first occasion on which he had ever attempted to broach, in a
direct form, his favorite theory of the “lost tribes.” Let a man get
once fairly possessed of any peculiar notion, whether it be on religion,
political economy, morals, politics, arts, or anything else, and he sees
little beside his beloved principle, which he is at all times ready to
advance, defend, demonstrate, or expatiate on. Nothing can be simpler
than the two great dogmas of Christianity, which are so plain that all
can both comprehend them and feel their truth. They teach us to love
God, the surest way to obey him, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Any one can understand this; all can see how just it is, and how much of
moral sublimity it contains. It is Godlike, and brings us near the very
essence of the Divinity, which is love, mercy, and truth. Yet how few
are content to accept the teachings of the Saviour in this respect,
without embarrassing them with theories that have so much of their
origin in human fancies. We do not mean by this, however, that Parson
Amen was so very wrong in bestowing a part of his attention on that
wonderful people, who, so early set apart by the Creator as the
creatures of his own especial ends, have already played so great a
part in the history of nations, and who are designed, so far as we can
penetrate revelation, yet to enact their share in the sublime drama of
human events.
As for the council, its members were moved by more than ordinary
curiosity to hear what further the missionary might have to say, though
all present succeeded admirably in suppressing the exhibition of
any interest that might seem weak and womanly. After a decent delay,
therefore, Bear's Meat intimated to the parson that it would be
agreeable to the chiefs present to listen to him further.
“My children, I have a great tradition to tell you,” the missionary
resumed, as soon as on his feet again; “a very great and divine
tradition; not a tradition of man's, but one that came direct from the
Manitou himself. Peter has spoken truth; there is but one Great Spirit;
he is the Great Spirit of all colors, and tribes, and nations. He made
all men of the same clay.” Here a slight sensation was perceptible among
the audience, most of whom were very decidedly of a different opinion,
on this point of natural history. But the missionary was now so far
warmed with his subject as to disregard any slight interruption, and
proceeded as if his listeners had betrayed no feeling. “And he divided
them afterward into nations and tribes. It was then he caused the color
of his creatures to change. Some he kept white, as he had made them.
Some he put behind a dark cloud, and they became altogether black. Our
wise men think that this was done in punishment for their sins. Some he
painted red, like the nations on this continent.” Here Peter raised a
finger, in sign that he would ask a question; for, without permission
granted, no Indian would interrupt the speaker. Indeed, no one of less
claims than Peter would hardly have presumed to take the step he now
did, and that because he saw a burning curiosity gleaming in the bright
eyes of so many in the dark circle.
“Say on, Peter,” answered the missionary to this sign; “I will reply.”
“Let my brother say WHY the Great Spirit turned the Indian to a red
color. Was he angry with him? or did he paint him so out of love?”
“This is more than I can tell you, friends. There are many colors among
men, in different parts of the world, and many shades among people of
the same color. There are pale-faces fair as the lily, and there are
pale-faces so dark, as scarcely to be distinguished from blacks. The
sun does much of this; but no sun, nor want of sun, will ever make a
pale-face a red-skin, or a red skin a pale-face.”
“Good--that is what we Indians say. The Manitou has made us different;
he did not mean that we should live on the same hunting-grounds,”
rejoined Peter, who rarely failed to improve every opportunity in order
to impress on the minds of his followers the necessity of now crushing
the serpent in its shell.
“No man can say that,” answered Parson Amen. “Unless my people had come
to this continent, the word of God could not have been preached by
me, along the shores of these lakes. But I will now speak of our great
tradition. The Great Spirit divided mankind into nations and tribes.
When this was done, he picked out one for his chosen people. The
pale-faces call that favorite, and for a long time much-favored people,
Jews. The Manitou led them through a wilderness, and even through a salt
lake, until they reached a promised land, where he permitted them to
live for many hundred winters. A great triumph was to come out of that
people--the triumphs of truth and of the law, over sin and death. In the
course of time--”
Here a young chief rose, made a sign of caution, and crossing the circle
rapidly, disappeared by the passage through which the rill flowed.
In about a minute he returned, showing the way into the centre of the
council to one whom all present immediately recognized as a runner, by
his dress and equipments. Important news was at hand; yet not a man of
all that crowd either rose or spoke, in impatience to learn what it was!