his cause. There was one soldier
chief whom every Indian of the Pacific Slope knew well by reputation
and by name--the chief who spoke ever with the straight tongue and told
them only the truth--the chief who never broke his word or let others
ignore it. "Gray Fox" they named him later among other tribes, but
these of the Sierras spoke of him only as "Crook."

On the greensward, close to the assembly hall in the low ground, the
council lodge was pitched--two huge hospital tent flies having been
stretched from tree to tree, braced on uprights; and there, in a little
semi-circle, sat the general with his principal officers about
him--gray-haired, pale-faced Archer, looking strangely sad and old, at
his right--black-haired Wickham at his left, and high officials of the
staff departments on either flank, the judge advocate of the department
having a little table and chair at one side that all legal notes might
be made. Half a dozen officers of the garrison, with Colonel Darrah at
their head, grouped in rear of the council. Three or four orderlies
stood about, but, by order, not a rifle or revolver could be found in
the entire array. Seated to the right and left were officers prominent
in the recent campaign--Stannard, Turner, Bonner, Strong and Harris
among them, while at a distance, among the cedars and looking curiously
on, were gathered the wives and families of the officers, with their
guests and attendants--at a distance that the dignity of the occasion
in the eyes of the Indian race might not be put in jeopardy by the
presence of a woman.

Further still, on the other side across the trickling brook, to the
number of near two hundred, men, women and children, soldiers, citizens
and strangers, all in silence awaited the first act of the drama--the
coming of 'Tonio with his retinue, marshalled by that expert master of
aboriginal ceremonies, Lieutenant Bright.

And presently he came. No picturesque war bonnet distinguished him. No
robe or mantle hung in stately folds about his form. 'Tonio sought not,
as does his red brother of the plains, the theatrical aid of impressive
costume. Tall, spare and erect, his sinewy legs and arms bare almost
their entire length, his moccasins worn and faded, but his fillet,
camisa and trailing breech-clout almost snowy white; destitute of
plume, feather, necklace, armlet, ornament of any kind, unarmed, yet
unafraid, with slow and measured stop the chief approached the council
tent, thre