chief, who at last broke the silence.

"What does the great Timmendiquas, head chief of the Wyandots, think of
the things that we have done?" he asked.

Timmendiquas remained silent at least two minutes more, although all
eyes were still centered upon him, and then he rose, slowly and with the
utmost dignity, to his feet. A deep breath like the sighing of the wind
came from the crowd, and then it was still again.

Timmendiquas did not yet speak, nor did he look at any one. His gaze was
that of the seer. He looked over and beyond them, and they felt awe. He
walked slowly to a little mound, ascended it, and turned his gaze all
around the eager and waiting circle. The look out of his eyes had
changed abruptly. It was now that of the warrior and chief who would
destroy his enemies. Another minute of waiting, and he began to speak in
a deep, resonant voice.

"You are here," he cried, "warriors and men of many tribes, Shawnee,
Miami, Delaware, Illinois, Ottawa, and Wyandot. All who live in the
valley north of the Ohio and east of the Mississippi are here. You are
brave men. Sometimes you have fought with one another. In this strife
all have won victory and all have suffered defeat. But you lived the
life that Manitou made you to live, and you were happy, in your own way,
in a great and fair land that is filled with game.

"But a new enemy has come, and, like the buffalo on the far western
plains, his numbers are past counting. When one is slain five grow in
his place. When Manitou made the white man he planted in his soul the
wish to possess all the earth, and he strives night and day to achieve
his wish. While he lives he does not turn back, and dead, his bones
claim the ground in which they lie. He may be afraid of the forest and
the warrior. The growl of the bear and the scream of the panther may
make him tremble, but, trembling, he yet comes."

He paused and looked once more around the whole length of the circle. A
deep murmur of approval broke forth, but the forest orator quieted it
with a single lift of his hand.

"The white man," he resumed, "respects no land but his own. If it does
not belong to himself he thinks that it belongs to nobody, and that
Manitou merely keeps it in waiting for him. He is here now with his
women and children in the land that we and our fathers have owned since
the beginning of time. Many of the white men have fallen beneath our
bullets and tomahawks. We have burned their new houses and