great of stature, and his huge beard and wild shock of hair were a
wonderful sight. He remained silent, looking on them. At last the old
chief spoke. "Who are you?"

"I am a great chief from the Hills of the Mighty Men, come to be your
king," was his reply.

"He is your king," cried Pierre in a strange voice from the shadow of
the gate, and he thrust out his gun-barrel, so that they could see it.

The Indians now saw Pierre and the half-breeds in the gateway, and they
had not so much awe. They came a little nearer, and the women stopped
crying. A few of the braves half-raised their spears. Seeing this,
Pierre instantly stepped forward to the giant. He looked a child in
stature thereby. He spoke quickly and well in the Chinook language.

"This is a mighty man from the Hills of the Mighty Men. He has come
to rule over you, to give all other tribes into your hands; for he has
strength like a thousand, and fears nothing of gods nor men. I have
the blood of red men in me. It is I who have called this man from
his distant home. I heard of your fighting and foolishness: also that
warriors were to come from the south country to scatter your wives and
children, and to make you slaves. I pitied you, and I have brought you a
chief greater than any other. Throw your spears upon the ground, and all
will be well; but raise one to throw, or one arrow, or axe, and there
shall be death among you, so that as a people you shall die. The spirits
are with us. ... Well?"

The Indians drew a little nearer, but they did not drop their spears,
for the old chief forbade them.

"We are no dogs nor cowards," he said, "though the spirits be with
you, as we believe. We have seen strange things"--he pointed to Young
Eye--"and heard voices not of men; but we would see great things as well
as strange. There are seven men of the Little Skins tribe within a lodge
yonder. They were to die when our braves returned from the hunt, and for
that we prepared the feast. But this mighty man, he shall fight them all
at once, and if he kills them he shall be our king. In the name of my
tribe I speak. And this other," pointing to Pierre, "he shall also fight
with a strong man of our tribe, so that we shall know if you are all
brave, and not as those who crawl at the knees of the mighty."

This was more than Pierre had bargained for. Seven men at Macavoy, and
Indians too, fighting for their lives, was a contract of weight. But
Macavoy was blowing in his beard