they
should borrow arms and ammunition for a hunting match to be made on
account of a grand feast, promising to bring back meat in payment. The
arms once obtained, the discharge of a gun would be the signal for them
to fall on the unsuspecting French and kill them all.

He further suggested that all the other villages should be apprised of
the project and asked to assist. A bundle of rods was to be sent to each
village, the rods indicating the number of days preceding that fixed for
the assault. That no mistake might be made, a prudent person in each
village should be appointed to draw out a rod on each day and throw it
away. This was their way of counting time.

The scheme was accepted by the council, the Sun warmly approving of it.
When it was made known to the chiefs of the nation, they all joined in
approval, including the Grand Sun, their chief ruler, and his uncle, the
Stung Serpent. It was kept secret, however, from the people at large,
and from all the women of the noble and royal castes, not excepting the
woman chief.

This it was not easy to do. Secret meetings were being held, and the
object of these the female Suns had a right to demand. The woman chief
at that time was a young princess, scarce eighteen, and little inclined
to trouble herself with political affairs; but the Strong Arm, the
mother of the Grand Sun, was an able and experienced woman, and one
friendly to the French. Her son, strongly importuned by her, told her of
the scheme, and also of the purpose of the bundle of rods that lay in
the temple.

Strong Arm was politic enough to appear to approve the project, but
secretly she was anxious to save the French. The time was growing short,
and she sought to have the commandant warned by hints of danger. These
were brought him by soldiers, but in his supercilious self-conceit he
paid no heed to them, but went on blindly towards destruction. He went
so far as to put in irons seven of those who warned him of the peril,
accusing them of cowardice. Finding this effort unavailing, the Strong
Arm secretly pulled some rods out of the fatal bundle, hoping in this
way to disarrange the project of the conspirators.

Heedless of all that had been told him, Chopart and some other Frenchmen
went on the night before the fatal day to the great village of the
Natchez, on a party of pleasure, not returning till break of day, and
then the worse for his potations. In the mean time the secret had grown
more open, a