. The power of the Great
White Chief was such that he allowed his son to go forth alone, and
feared not for his life. Even so Clark himself walked among them, nor
looked to right or left.

Two nights Colonel Clark sat through, calling now on this man and now
on that, and conning the treaties which the English had made with the
various tribes--ay, and French and Spanish treaties too--until he knew
them all by heart. There was no haste in what he did, no uneasiness
in his manner. He listened to the advice of Monsieur Gratiot and other
Creole gentlemen of weight, to the Spanish officers who came in their
regimentals from St. Louis out of curiosity to see how this man would
treat with the tribes. For he spoke of his intentions to none of them,
and gained the more respect by it. Within the week the council began;
and the scene of the great drama was a field near the village, the
background of forest trees. Few plays on the world's stage have held
such suspense, few battles such excitement for those who watched. Here
was the spectacle of one strong man's brain pitted against the combined
craft of the wilderness. In the midst of a stretch of waving grass was
a table, and a young man of six-and-twenty sat there alone. Around
him were ringed the gathered tribes, each chief in the order of his
importance squatted in the inner circle, their blankets making patches
of bright color against the green. Behind the tribes was the little
group of hunting shirts, the men leaning on the barrels of their long
rifles, indolent but watchful. Here and there a gay uniform of a Spanish
or Creole officer, and behind these all the population of the village
that dared to show itself.

The ceremonies began with the kindling of the council fire,--a rite
handed down through unknown centuries of Indian usage. By it nations had
been made and unmade, broad lands passed, even as they now might pass.
The yellow of its crackling flames was shamed by the summer sun, and the
black smoke of it was wafted by the south wind over the forest. Then for
three days the chiefs spoke, and a man listened, unmoved. The sound of
these orations, wild and fearful to my boyish ear, comes back to me now.
Yet there was a cadence in it, a music of notes now falling, now rising
to a passion and intensity that thrilled us.

Bad birds flying through the land (the British agents) had besought them
to take up the bloody hatchet. They had sinned. They had listened to
the lies whic