“My father, then, intends to lead his pale-faces on a crooked path, and take their scalps when he has done with them,” said Crowsfeather, who had been gravely listening to Peter’s plans of future proceeding; “but who is to get the scalp of the Chippewa?”

“One of my Pottawattamie young men; but not until I have made use of him.  I have a medicine-priest of the pale-faces and a warrior with me, but shall not put their scalps on my pole until they have paddled me further.  The council is to be first held in the Oak Openings”—­we translate this term freely, that used by Peter meaning rather “the open woods of the prairies”—­“and I wish to show my prisoners to the chiefs, that they may see how easy it is to cut off all the Yankees.  I have now four men of that people, and two squaws, in my power; let every red man destroy as many, and the land will soon be clear of them all!”

This was uttered with gleamings of ferocity in the speaker’s face, that rendered his countenance terrible.  Even Crowsfeather quailed a little before that fierce aspect; but the whole passed away almost as soon as betrayed, and was succeeded by a friendly and deceptive smile, that was characteristic of the wily Asiatic rather than of the aboriginal American.

“They cannot be counted,” returned the Pottawattamie chief, as soon as his restraint was a little removed by this less terrific aspect of his companion, “if all I hear is true.  Blackbird says that even the squaws of the pale-faces are numerous enough to overcome all the red men that remain.”

“There will be two less, when I fasten to my pole the scalps of those on the other side of the river,” answered Peter, with another of his transient, but startling gleams of intense revenge.  “But no matter, now:  my brother knows all I wish him to do.  Not a hair of the head of any of these pale-faces must be touched by any hand but mine.  When the time comes, the knife of Onoah is sure.  The Pottawattamies shall have their canoes, arid can follow us up the river.  They will find us in the Openings, and near the Prairie Round.  They know the spot; for the red men love to hunt the deer in that region.  Now, go and tell this to your young men; and tell them that corn will not grow, nor the deer wait to be killed by any of your people, if they forget to do as I have said.  Vengeance shall come, when it is time.”

Crowsfeather communicated all this to his warriors, who received it as the ancients received the words of their oracles.  Each member of the party endeavored to get an accurate notion of his duty, in order that he might comply to the very letter with the injunctions received.  So profound was the impression made among all the red men of the north-west by the previous labors of the “Tribeless” to awaken a national spirit, and so great was their dread of the consequences of disobedience, that every warrior present felt as if his life were the threatened penalty of neglect or disinclination to obey.