A COUNCIL OF CHIEFS
I was on my feet in an instant, forgetful of everything excepting my
duty to this girl whom I had come so far to find, and who now was
plainly a prisoner in Indian hands. At the entrance of the tepee, a
scowling warrior pushed me roughly back, pretending not to understand
my eager words of expostulation, and, by significant gesture,
threatening to brain me with his gun-stock if I persisted. A slight
return of reason alone kept me from striking the fellow down and
striding over his prostrate body. While I stood struggling with this
temptation, Captain Heald grasped me firmly.
"Are you mad, Wayland?" he muttered, dragging me back into the dark
interior of the tepee. "For God's sake, don't anger these fellows!
Think of all the helpless lives depending on the success of our errand
here! What is the girl to you?"
"I will wait," I answered, calmed by his earnestness, and ashamed of
my boyish impetuosity; "but I am here at Dearborn seeking this young
woman, whom I had supposed rather to be a young child. Her father was
my father's dearest friend, and wrote us from his death-bed asking our
protection for her."
"You are Major Wayland's son,--I remember the circumstances now, and
that I endorsed such a letter. 'Tis most strange. This girl disappeared
from Dearborn some days ago. Mrs. Heald heard the matter discussed
among the ladies of the garrison, and then all supposed her to be at
John Kinzie's in company with Josette La Framboise; yet I would almost
have sworn I saw her again, and not two hours ago, within the Fort.
By Saint George! the glimpse I got just now makes me doubt my own
eyesight. She was ever an odd creature,--but what can bring her here,
walking so freely about in this camp of vengeful savages?"
I could not answer him; the mystery was beyond my clearing. Only, if
this was the Elsa Matherson for whom I had sought so long, surely God
had in some way led me on to find her; nor should any peril turn my
quest aside.
I had hardly time for this resolve, ere the flap of the tepee was
held back by a dark hand, and in grimly impressive silence warrior
after warrior, plumed, painted, and gaudily bedecked with savage
ornaments, stalked solemnly within, circled about us without sign of
greeting, and seated themselves cross-legged upon the bare ground. The
uplifted door-skin permitted the red flames from without to play freely
over their stern, impassive faces, and shone back upon us from their
glittering eyes. It was an impressive scene, their stoical demeanor
breathing the deep solemnity of the vast woods and plains amid which
their savage lives were passed; nor could one fail to feel the deep
gravity with which they gathered in this council of life or death. To
them it was evident that the meeting was of most serious portent.
I saw only two faces that I recognized in that red ring,--Topenebe and
Little Sauk. I knew, however, it was probable there were some great
chiefs among that company; and I marked especially two, one with long
white hair, and a tall, slender, rather young fellow, having two wide
streaks of yellow down either cheek.
The Indians sat motionless, gazing intently at us; and I swept the
entire dark circle of scowling faces, vainly endeavoring to find one
hopeful glance, one friendly eye. Open hatred, undisguised distrust,
implacable enmity, were stamped on every feature. Whatever our plea
might be, I felt convinced that the chiefs were here only to carry out
their own purposes and make mock of every offering of peace.
After several moments of this painful silence, the chief with the
long white hair deliberately lighted a large pipe drawn from his belt.
It was curiously and grotesquely fashioned, the huge bowl carved to
resemble the head of a bear. He drew from the stem a single thick
volume of smoke, breathed it out into the air, and solemnly passed the
pipe to the warrior seated upon his right. With slow deliberation, the
symbol moved around the impassive and emotionless circle, passing from
one red hand to another, until it finally came back to him who had
first lighted it. Without so much as a word being uttered, he gravely
offered it to Captain Heald. I heard, and understood, the quick sigh
of relief with which my companion grasped it; he drew a breath of the
tobacco, and I followed his example, handing back the smoking pipe to
the white-haired chief without rising, amid the same impressive silence.
The Indian leader spoke for the first time, his voice deep and guttural.
"The Pottawattomies have met in council with the White Chief and the
Long Knife," he said soberly, "and have smoked together the peace-pipe.
For what have the white men come to disturb Gomo and his warriors?"
I gazed at him with new interest. No name of savage chief was wider
known along the border in those days, none more justly feared by the
settlers. He was a tall, spare, austere man, his long coarse hair
whitened by years, but with no stoop in his figure. His eyes, small and
keen, blazed with a strange ferocity, as I have seen those of wild-cats
in the dark; while his flesh was drawn so closely against his prominent
cheek-bones as to leave an impression of ghastliness, as of a corpse
suddenly returned by some miracle to life. With dabs of paint across
the forehead, and thin lips drawn in a narrow line of cruelty, his face
formed a picture to be long remembered with a shudder.
It was easy enough to see that Captain Heald felt uncertain how far to
venture in his proposals, though he spoke up boldly, and with no tremor
in his voice. His long frontier experience had taught him the danger
that lay in exhibiting timidity in the face of Indian scorn.
"Gomo," he said firmly, "and you other Chiefs of the Pottawattomies,
there has never been war between us. We have traded together for many
seasons; you have eaten at my table, and I have rested by your fires.
We have been as brothers, and more than once have I judged between you
and those who would wrong you. I have remembered all this, and have now
come into your camp through the night, without fear and unarmed, that I
might talk with you as friends. Am I not right to do this? In all the
time I have been the White Chief at Dearborn, have I ever done wrong to
a Pottawattomie?"
He paused; but no warrior made reply. A low guttural murmur ran around
the line of listeners, but the bead-like eyes never left his face. He
went on:
"Why should I fear to meet the Pottawattomies, even though word had
come to me that their young men talk war, and seek alliance with our
enemy the red-coats? The Chiefs have seen war, and are not crazed for
the blood of their friends. They will restrain such wild mutterings.
They know that the White Father to the east is strong, and will drive
the red-coats back into the sea as he did when they fought before. They
will ally themselves with the strong one, and make their foolish young
man take up arms for their friends."
Still no one spoke, no impassive bronze face exhibited the faintest
interest. It was as if he appealed to stone.
"Is this not so?"
"The White Chief has spoken," was the cold reply. "His words are
full of eloquence, but Gomo hears nothing that calls for answer. The
White Chief says not why he has come and demanded council of the
Pottawattomies."
A low murmur, expressive of approval, swept down the observant line;
but no man among them stirred a muscle.
"I came for this, Gomo," said Heald, speaking now rapidly, and with
an evident determination to trust all in a sentence and have it over
with, for it was clear the savages were in no mood for diplomatic
evasion: "to ask your guidance and protection on our march eastward on
the morrow. I come to the Pottawattomies as friends; for I fear we may
meet with trouble on the way, from roving bands of Wyandots and Miamis,
and we are greatly burdened by our women and children. It is to ask
this that I and the Long Knife are here."
"You say the White Father is strong, and will drive the red-coats into
the sea: did he at Mackinac?"
"There was treachery there."
"Ugh! Why, if White Father so strong, you leave Fort and go way off?"
"Because just now I can serve him better elsewhere; but we shall come
again."
"My young men have rumor that Detroit go like Mackinac."
"It is untrue; your young men bring false news."
Gomo turned and looked about him upon the expectant warriors; and, as
if the glance was an invitation to free speech, one sitting half-way
across the circle asked gruffly:
"Why you pour out rum, if you love Pottawattomie?"
"Because I am only the White Chief at Dearborn," returned Heald, facing
the questioner, "and, like Peesotum who asks, have higher chiefs
elsewhere whom I must obey. What they tell me I have to do."
"White Chief lies!" was the short, stern answer. "Winnemeg brought no
such word."
So furious were the many dark, glowering faces, that I braced myself,
thinking the next moment would be one of struggle for life or death;
but Gomo held them motionless with a wave of his hand. He rose slowly
to his feet, and faced us with grave dignity.
"It is true, as Peesotum says," he said impressively. "The White Chief
has used a double tongue to the Red man; yet we will deal fairly with
him, for he has come to us in peace. White Chief, there is to be war
between us; 'tis the will of our young men, and the red wampum has
passed among our lodges and the lodges of our brothers the Wyandots.
Yet when you unlock the gates we will go forth with you and your
people, around the sweep of the water. Such is the will of the Great
Spirit, and the decision of the Pottawattomie in council of chiefs."
Heald looked about upon the scowling circle with disbelief so clearly
expressed in his eyes, that Gomo, reading it, turned to his warriors
and called upon them one by one to say if he spoke the truth. I heard
him speak thus to Little Sauk, Black Bird, Topenebe, Mankia, Pipe Bird,
Peesotum, and Ignance; and each answered with the low grunt of assent.
He fixed his eyes upon the younger Indian who had already attracted my
attention by the manliness of his face as well as the yellow stripes
that disfigured him.
"And you, Black Partridge?"
"I have already spoken to the White Chief in his own wigwam, and given
back the medal of the Americans," was the grave response. "I have no
more to say."
I confess these words chilled me, as I recalled their meaning; and
Heald half rose to his feet as though he would protest, but not a
stolid face among the warriors changed in expression. Gomo drew his
robes more closely about his gaunt figure in simple but impressive
dignity.
"Doth Shaw-nee-aw-kee go east also with the white men?" he asked.
"I have not of late conferred with the Silver-man. He has been at his
own lodge, and doubtless you may know his purpose better than I."
"We wish him to stay. He good man; Pottawattomie's friend."
The Indian stood motionless, his eyes watching keenly the expression of
each face. He added slowly:
"The White Chief hears the promise of the Pottawattomies. It is enough.
He can go forth in peace upon the morrow, with all his warriors,
squaws, and pappooses, and the people of my nation will walk with them
as guards. It is our pledge; we will counsel no longer."
At a simple commanding gesture of his long arms, the circle melted away
through the narrow opening as silently as it had gathered, the dark
figure of each warrior silhouetted for an instant against the red glare
of the fire, before it suddenly disappeared in the darkness beyond. At
last Little Sauk alone stood between us and the blaze.
"Come," he commanded gruffly, "White Chief go back to his people."
Enclosed by that same phantom guard of savages, we passed out through
the limits of the camp; but now the rabble paid not the slightest heed
to our presence. Our mission known, and no longer a mystery, they
treated us with the stolid indifference of Indian contempt. I walked
with eyes alert upon either side of our path for another glimpse of
that girlish figure that I had seen before so dimly; but we traversed
nearly the full length of the tepee rows before I saw any one that at
all resembled her. Even then, I was far from certain, until the sudden
leaping up of a dying fire reflected on her crown of auburn hair, and
set my heart to throbbing.
"Little Sauk!" I cried, in my excitement clutching his naked arm, "who
is that white girl yonder, and how comes she here?"
The startled Indian sprang aside, flinging me from him with a violence
that showed his giant strength.
"No white girl," he protested, vehemently. "Pottawattomie."
"No Pottawattomie has hair like the sunset," I retorted. "Come, I would
speak with the girl."
For an instant I saw the bead-like eyes of the savage glittering in the
darkness and wandering where I pointed. He faced me doggedly.
"Long Knife leave Indian maid alone," he said grimly. "Long Knife go
Fort; no talk."
I was in a mood to resist the fellow's dictation, and reckless enough
of consequences at that moment to take the chance; but Heald interfered.
"You can serve her far better, lad, in that way," he muttered hastily.
"We shall not always be two to twelve."
With teeth gritted to keep back the fierce anger that shook me, I
strolled sullenly on, not even venturing to glance back lest I should
give way. It was thus we reached the Fort gate, and entered, leaving
our dusky escort to slink back into the night. An anxious crowd met us.
It was Wells who questioned first.
"So those devils have let you go unharmed? What answer made the
savages?"
"They pledge us safe convoy around the head of the lake."
"They do? Who spoke the words of the pledge?"
"Old Gomo himself, and it was ratified by each of the chiefs in turn."
"They are lying dogs,--all but one of them. What answered Black
Partridge?"
Heald made no response; and Wells wheeled impetuously to me.
"Come, lad, the truth,--what reply did Black Partridge make to this
Indian mummery?"
"He said, 'I have already spoken to the White Chief in his own wigwam,
and given back the medal of the Americans, and have nothing more to
say.'"
For a moment the old Indian soldier stared at me, his stern face fairly
black with the cloud in his eyes. He brought his clinched hand down
hard against the log wall.
"By God! it is treachery!" he exclaimed fiercely, and turned and walked
away.