quiver, full of arrows; another, a long and
massive string of _hiagua_ shells. Each laid his gift before Multnomah
and took his seat in silence.

The chief of the Chopponish presented him with a fine horse, the best
belonging to his tribe. Multnomah accepted it, and a slave led it
away. Then came Snoqualmie, bringing with him Cecil Grey. The chief's
hour of vengeance was at hand.

"Behold the white man from the land where the sun rises, the white
_shaman_ of whom all the tribes have heard. He is thine. Let him be
the white slave of Multnomah. All the chiefs have slaves, but who will
have a white slave like Multnomah?"

Cecil saw the abyss of slavery yawning before him, and grew pale to
the lips. His heart sank within him; then the resolute purpose that
never failed him in time of peril returned; he lifted his head and met
Multnomah's gaze with dignity. The war-chief bent on him the glance
which read men to the heart.

"The white stranger has been a chief among his own people," he said to
Cecil, more in the manner of one asserting a fact than asking a
question.

"I have often spoken to my people in the gatherings to hear the word
of the Great Spirit."

Again the keen, inscrutable gaze of the great chief seemed to probe
his being to its core; again the calm, grave stranger met it without
shrinking. The instinct, so common among savage races, of in some way
_knowing_ what a man is, of intuitively grasping his true merit, was
possessed by Multnomah in a large degree; and the royalty in his
nature instinctively recognized the royalty in Cecil's.

"The white guest who comes into the land of Multnomah shall be to him
as a guest; the chief should still be chief in any land. White
stranger, Multnomah gives you welcome; sit down among the chiefs."

Cecil took his place among them with all the composure he could
command, well knowing that he who would be influential among the
Indians must seem to be unmoved by any change of fortune. He felt,
however, not only the joy of personal deliverance, but mingled with it
came the glad, triumphant thought that he had now a voice in the
deliberations of the chiefs; it was a grand door opened for Indian
evangelization. As for Snoqualmie, his face was as impassive as
granite. One would have said that Cecil's victory was to him a matter
of no moment at all. But under the guise of indifference his anger
burned fierce and deadly,--not against Multnomah but against Cecil.

The last chi