ry sincerely. "I've never heard of a Wyandot who
flinched in battle. My people think that where one Wyandot warrior walks
it takes two warriors of any other tribe to fill his footprints."

Old Heno smiled broadly.

"Maybe you be at council to-morrow," he said. "You make good Wyandot."

"Maybe I could," said Henry to himself, "but it's certain that I never
will."

Old Heno withdrew, still smiling, and Henry was left alone in the
darkness of the prison lodge, full of interest over what was to occur on
the morrow, and anxious that he might be present to see. He knew that
the conference of the chiefs would be concerning the new war on
Kentucky, and now he was not so anxious to escape at once. A week later
would be better, and then if the chance came--he never faltered in his
belief that it would come--he could carry with him news worth the while.
The young chief, Timmendiquas, was a man whom he admired, but,
nevertheless, he would prove a formidable leader of such a coalition,
the most dangerous to the white people that could be found.

Henry listened again for the song among the leaves that had the power to
fill him with hope, but he did not hear it. Nevertheless, his courage
did not depart, and he felt that the longer the Wyandots waited to
dispose of him the better were his chances.

Heno came the next morning with his breakfast and announced that all the
chiefs of the Ohio Valley had arrived and were now in conference in the
council house.

"They talk later outside," he said, "and maybe Timmendiquas let you come
and hear wise words that great chiefs say."

"I'd like to hear," said Henry. "I know that the Indians are great
orators."

Heno did not reply, but Henry had divined that he was susceptible to
flattery. He understood, too, that it was the policy of White Lightning
to impress him with the skill and power of the tribes. So he waited
patiently.

Meanwhile fifty famous chiefs representing all the great nations of the
Ohio Valley sat in the temporary council house of the Wyandots, the
smallest but the wisest and bravest tribe of them all. They were mostly
men of middle age or older, although two or three were nearly, but not
quite, as young as Timmendiquas himself. This chief was at once the
youngest, the tallest, and the handsomest man present. They sat in rows,
but where he sat was the head of the council. All looked toward him.

Every chief was in his finest dress, moccasins, leggings, and hunting
coa