A low murmur, expressive of approval, swept down the observant line; but no man among them stirred a muscle.

“I came for this, Gomo,” said Heald, speaking now rapidly, and with an evident determination to trust all in a sentence and have it over with, for it was clear the savages were in no mood for diplomatic evasion:  “to ask your guidance and protection on our march eastward on the morrow.  I come to the Pottawattomies as friends; for I fear we may meet with trouble on the way, from roving bands of Wyandots and Miamis, and we are greatly burdened by our women and children.  It is to ask this that I and the Long Knife are here.”

“You say the White Father is strong, and will drive the red-coats into the sea:  did he at Mackinac?”

“There was treachery there.”

“Ugh!  Why, if White Father so strong, you leave Fort and go way off?”

“Because just now I can serve him better elsewhere; but we shall come again.”

“My young men have rumor that Detroit go like Mackinac.”

“It is untrue; your young men bring false news.”

Gomo turned and looked about him upon the expectant warriors; and, as if the glance was an invitation to free speech, one sitting half-way across the circle asked gruffly: 

“Why you pour out rum, if you love Pottawattomie?”

“Because I am only the White Chief at Dearborn,” returned Heald, facing the questioner, “and, like Peesotum who asks, have higher chiefs elsewhere whom I must obey.  What they tell me I have to do.”

“White Chief lies!” was the short, stern answer.  “Winnemeg brought no such word.”

So furious were the many dark, glowering faces, that I braced myself, thinking the next moment would be one of struggle for life or death; but Gomo held them motionless with a wave of his hand.  He rose slowly to his feet, and faced us with grave dignity.

“It is true, as Peesotum says,” he said impressively.  “The White Chief has used a double tongue to the Red man; yet we will deal fairly with him, for he has come to us in peace.  White Chief, there is to be war between us; ’t is the will of our young men, and the red wampum has passed among our lodges and the lodges of our brothers the Wyandots.  Yet when you unlock the gates we will go forth with you and your people, around the sweep of the water.  Such is the will of the Great Spirit, and the decision of the Pottawattomie in council of chiefs.”

Heald looked about upon the scowling circle with disbelief so clearly expressed in his eyes, that Gomo, reading it, turned to his warriors and called upon them one by one to say if he spoke the truth.  I heard him speak thus to Little Sauk, Black Bird, Topenebe, Mankia, Pipe Bird, Peesotum, and Ignance; and each answered with the low grunt of assent.  He fixed his eyes upon the younger Indian who had already attracted my attention by the manliness of his face as well as the yellow stripes that disfigured him.