He bade them thank that Great Spirit who had cleared the sky and opened their ears and hearts that they might receive the truth,—­who had laid bare to their understanding the lies of the English.  Even as these English had served the Big Knives, so might they one day serve the Indians.  Therefore he commanded them to cast the tomahawk into the river, and when they should return to their land to drive the evil birds from it.  And they must send their wise men to Kaskaskia to hear the words of wisdom of the Great White Chief, Clark.  He thanked the Great Spirit for this council fire which He had kindled at Cahokia.

Lifting the bowl of the censer, in the eyes of all the people he drew in a long whiff to bear witness of peace.  After him the pipe went the interminable rounds of the chiefs.  Colonel Clark took it, and puffed; Captain Bowman puffed,—­everybody puffed.

“Davy must have a pull,” cried Tom; and even the chiefs smiled as I coughed and sputtered, while my friends roared with laughter.  It gave me no great notion of the fragrance of tobacco.  And then came such a hand-shaking and grunting as a man rarely sees in a lifetime.

There was but one disquieting question left:  What was to become of the North Wind and his friends?  None dared mention the matter at such a time.  But at length, as the day wore on to afternoon, the Colonel was seen to speak quietly to Captain Bowman, and several backwoodsmen went off toward the town.  And presently a silence fell on the company as they beheld the dejected three crossing the field with a guard.  They were led before Clark, and when he saw them his face hardened to sternness.

“It is only women who watch to catch a bear sleeping,” he said.  “The Big Knives do not kill women.  I shall give you meat for your journey home, for women cannot hunt.  If you remain here, you shall be treated as squaws.  Set the women free.”

Tom McChesney cast off their irons.  As for Clark, he began to talk immediately with Monsieur Gratiot, as though he had dismissed them from his mind.  And their agitation was a pitiful thing to see.  In vain they pressed about him, in vain they even pulled the fringe of his shirt to gain his attention.  And then they went about among the other chiefs, but these dared not intercede.  Uneasiness was written on every man’s face, and the talk went haltingly.  But Clark was serenity itself.  At length with a supreme effort they plucked up courage to come again to the table, one holding out the belt of peace, and the other the still smouldering pipe.

Clark paused in his talk.  He took the belt, and flung it away over the heads of those around him.  He seized the pipe, and taking up his sword from the table drew it, and with one blow clave the stem in half.  There was no anger in either act, but much deliberation.

“The Big Knives,” he said scornfully, “do not treat with women.”

The pleading began again, the Hungry Wolf interpreting with tremors of earnestness.  Their lives were spared, but to what purpose, since the White Chief looked with disfavor upon them?  Let him know that bad men from Michilimackinac put the deed into their hearts.