confronting the mob of savages that swayed against the fence, and the
street was filled with running figures. A voice of command that I knew
well came from behind me. It was Colonel Clark's.

"Stay where you are, McChesney!" he shouted, and Tom halted with his
hand on the latch.

"With your permission, I will speak to them," said Monsieur Gratiot, who
had come out also.

I looked up at him, and he was as calm as when he had joked with me a
quarter of an hour since.

"Very well," said Clark, briefly.

Monsieur Gratiot surveyed them scornfully.

"Where is the Hungry Wolf, who speaks English?" he said.

There was a stir in the rear ranks, and a lean savage with abnormal
cheek bones pushed forward.

"Hungry Wolf here," he said with a grunt.

"The Hungry Wolf knew the French trader at Michilimackinac," said
Monsieur Gratiot. "He knows that the French trader's word is a true
word. Let the Hungry Wolf tell his companions that the Chief of the Long
Knives is very angry."

The Hungry Wolf turned, and began to speak. His words, hoarse and
resonant, seemed to come from the depths of his body. Presently he
paused, and there came an answer from the fiend who had seized me. After
that there were many grunts, and the Hungry Wolf turned again.

"The North Wind mean no harm," he answered. "He play with the son of
the Great White Chief, and his belly is very sore where the Chief's son
kicked him."

"The Chief of the Long Knives will consider the offence," said Monsieur
Gratiot, and retired into the house with Colonel Clark. For a full
five minutes the Indians waited, impassive. And then Monsieur Gratiot
reappeared, alone.

"The Chief of the Long Knives is mercifully inclined to forgive," he
said. "It was in play. But there must be no more play with the Chief's
son. And the path to the Great Chief's presence must be kept clear."

Again the Hungry Wolf translated. The North Wind grunted and departed in
silence, followed by many of his friends. And indeed for a while after
that the others kept a passage clear to the gate.

As for the son of the Great White Chief, he sat for a long time that
afternoon beside the truck patch of the house. And presently he slipped
out by a byway into the street again, among the savages. His heart was
bumping in his throat, but a boyish reasoning told him that he must show
no fear. And that day he found what his Colonel had long since learned
to be true that in courage is the greater safety