rrior who challenged him thus. The whole camp was
listening; and being unable, in spite of his giant frame and well-known
record, to cite a greater deed than hers, he retreated with as good a
grace as possible. Thus Eyatonkawee recounted her brave deed for the
first time, in order to save a man's life. From that day her name was
great as a peace-maker--greater even than when she had first defended so
gallantly her babe and home!

Many years afterward, when she had attained middle age, this woman
averted a serious danger from her people.

Chief Little Crow the elder was dead, and as he had two wives of two
different bands, the succession was disputed among the half-brothers
and their adherents. Finally the two sons of the wife belonging to the
Wabashaw band plotted against the son of the woman of the Kaposia band,
His-Red-Nation by name, afterward called Little Crow--the man who led
the Minnesota massacre.

They obtained a quantity of whisky and made a great feast to which
many were invited, intending when all were more or less intoxicated
to precipitate a fight in which he should be killed. It would be easy
afterward to excuse themselves by saying that it was an accident.

Mendota, near what is now the thriving city of Saint Paul, then a queen
of trading-posts in the Northwest, was the rendezvous of the Sioux. The
event brought many together, for all warriors of note were bidden from
far and near, and even the great traders of the day were present, for
the succession to the chieftainship was one which vitally affected their
interests. During the early part of the day all went well, with speeches
and eulogies of the dead chief, flowing and eloquent, such as only a
native orator can utter. Presently two goodly kegs of whisky were rolled
into the council teepee.

Eyatonkawee was among the women, and heard their expressions of anxiety
as the voices of the men rose louder and more threatening. Some carried
their children away into the woods for safety, while others sought
speech with their husbands outside the council lodge and besought them
to come away in time. But more than this was needed to cope with the
emergency. Suddenly a familiar form appeared in the door of the council
lodge.

"Is it becoming in a warrior to spill the blood of his tribesmen? Are
there no longer any Ojibways?"

It was the voice of Eyatonkawee, that stronghearted woman! Advancing at
the critical moment to the middle of the ring of warriors,