d hesitated in reply.

"Never since I have been at Dearborn have I sought war," he replied at
last. "Little Sauk knows this well. We travel now that we may have
council of peace with the chiefs of the Pottawattomies. See!" and he
held up both empty hands before the Indian's eyes, "we are both
unarmed, because of our trust in the good faith of your people."

Little Sauk uttered a low grunt of disapproval, and made no motion to
lower his threatening rifle.

"Ugh! You talk strong! Did any Pottawattomie send to White Chief to
come to council?"

"No," admitted Heald. "We come because it is the wish of the Great
Father of the white men down by the sea that we talk together of the
wrongs of the red men, and make proposals of peace between us. There
is no cause for these rumors of war, and the Great Father has heard
that the Pottawattomies are dissatisfied, and it has made him sad."

The Indian looked from one to the other of us in the growing darkness,
and made a gesture of contempt.

"The real Great White Father wears a red coat, and is friend to the
Pottawattomie," he said with dignity. "He no lie, no shut Indian out
of Fort, no steal furs, no throw rum in river. Who this man, White
Chief? He no soldier,--he long-knife."

"Yes, he is a frontiersman, and came to the Fort yesterday with
Wau-me-nuk, bringing word of greeting from the Great Father to the
Pottawattomies. He goes now with me to council. May we pass on to
your camp?"

For a moment Little Sauk did not answer, stepping closer in order that
he might better scan my features. Apparently satisfied by the keen
scrutiny, he turned his broad back upon us and strode off with
contemptuous dignity.

"Come," he said shortly; and without further word we followed across
that dim plain and through the thickening darkness.

The Indian's step was noiseless, and his figure cast the merest shadow;
but as we moved onward others constantly joined us, stalking out of the
black night like so many phantoms, gliding silently in their noiseless
moccasins across the soft grass, until fully a dozen spectral forms
hedged our pathway and kept step to every movement. It was a weird
procession, through the shifting night-shadows; and although I could
catch but fleeting glimpses of those savage faces and half-naked forms,
the knowledge of their presence, and our own helplessness if they
proved treacherous, caused my heart to throb till I could hear it in
the painful silen