.

A row of smouldering fires reached nearly from end to end of the
house. The smoke struggled upward, but failing, for the greater part,
to find the outlet overhead, remained inside to clog the air and dim
the eyes. The chiefs sat in a long ellipse in the central part of the
house, some sitting erect with legs crossed, others half reclining,
while a few lay sprawling, their chins resting on their hands. The Big
Throat sat with the powerful chiefs of the nation at one end. The
lesser sachems, including the Long Arrow, sat each before his own band
of followers. The second circle was made up of the older and
better-known warriors. Behind these, pressing close to catch every
word of the argument, were braves, youths, women, and children, mixed
together indiscriminately. A low platform extended the length of the
building against the wall on each side, and this held another
crowding, elbowing, whispering mass of redskins. Every chief and
warrior, as well as most of the women, held each a pipe between his
teeth, and puffed out clouds of smoke into the thick air.

The maid's eyes smarted and blurred in the smoke. It reached her
throat, and she coughed.

"Lie down, Mademoiselle," said Menard. "Breathe close to the ground
and it will not be so bad."

She hesitated, looking at the Big Throat, who sat with arms folded,
proud and dignified. Then she smiled, and lay almost flat on the
ground, breathing in the current of less impure air that passed
beneath the smoke. They had been placed in the inner circle, next to
the chiefs of the nations, where Menard's words would have the weight
that, to the mind of the Big Throat, was due to a representative of
the French Governor, even in time of war. Father Claude, sitting on
the left of the maid, was looking quietly into the fire. He had
committed the case into the hands of Providence, and he was certain
that the right words would be given to the Captain.

It was nearing the close of the afternoon. A beam of sunlight slipped
in at one end of the roof-opening, and slanted downward, clearing a
shining way through the smoke. A Cayuga chief was speaking.

"The corn is ripening in the fields about the Onondaga village. As I
came down the hills of the west to-day I saw the green tops waving in
the wind, and I was glad, for I knew that my brothers would feast in
plenty, that their Manitous have been kind. The Cayugas, too, have
great fields of corn, and the Senecas. Their women have worked