short trodden grass. We sat down silently upon
these, gazing out through the narrow opening at the blazing fire and
the numerous moving figures constantly crowding closer about the
entrance, both of us too deeply immersed in thought to care for speech.

The black shadows upon the tepee cover told me that guards had been
posted to keep back the rabble from intrusion, and once I saw signs of
a brief struggle in front when the swarm had grown too inquisitive and
were forced back with scant ceremony. The weird dance and incantation
continued; and although I knew but little of the customs of the
Pottawattomies, there was a cruel savagery and ferocity about it which
I felt held but little promise of peace.

"'T is the war-dance," whispered Heald in my ear, "and bodes ill for
our purpose. See! the red wampum is in the fellow's hand."

As I bent forward to catch the gleam of it in the flames, a new figure
suddenly flitted past our narrow vista, between us and the wild circle
of dancers. It was a woman, attired in fanciful Indian dress; but
surely no Pottawattomie squaw ever possessed so graceful a carriage, or
bore so clear a face.

"Captain!" I ejaculated eagerly. "Did you see that white woman there,
with the long skirt and red hair?"

"Ay!" he answered as though he scarce had faith in his own eyes. "I
marked not the color of her hair, but I saw the lass, and, by Saint
George! she looked to me like old Roger Matherson's daughter."

CHAPTER XXI

A COUNCIL OF CHIEFS

I was on my feet in an instant, forgetful of everything excepting my
duty to this girl whom I had come so far to find, and who now was
plainly a prisoner in Indian hands. At the entrance of the tepee, a
scowling warrior pushed me roughly back, pretending not to understand
my eager words of expostulation, and, by significant gesture,
threatening to brain me with his gun-stock if I persisted. A slight
return of reason alone kept me from striking the fellow down and
striding over his prostrate body. While I stood struggling with this
temptation, Captain Heald grasped me firmly.

"Are you mad, Wayland?" he muttered, dragging me back into the dark
interior of the tepee. "For God's sake, don't anger these fellows!
Think of all the helpless lives depending on the success of our errand
here! What is the girl to you?"

"I will wait," I answered, calmed by his earnestness, and ashamed of my
boyish impetuosity; "but I am here at Dearborn seeking th