The next thing I
remember was being in the dust, suffocated by that odor which he who has
known it can never forget. A medley of discordant cries was in my ears.
Then I was snatched up, bumped against heads and shoulders, and deposited
somewhere. Now it was Tom's face that was close to mine, and the light
of a fierce anger was in his blue eyes.

"Did they hurt ye, Davy?" he asked.

I shook my head. Before I could speak he was at the gate again,
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