, and they
appreciated the rest and refreshment so needful to those who had traveled
far. Neither did anyone else speak. The venerable Gray Beaver sat on a
couch of skins a little higher than the others, and his eyes rested
steadily on the belt bearers. The subchiefs, silent and motionless on
their mats of skins, also watched the belt bearers. At one end of the
great room, in a kind of rude chimney, smoldered the council fire, a bed
of coals.

More than half an hour passed, and when the guests had eaten and drunk
sufficiently, the venerable chief waved his hands, and the remains of the
food and drink were taken away. Then Gray Beaver drew from beneath his
robe a beautifully ornamented pipe, with a curved horn stem and a carven
bowl. He pressed into the bowl a mixture of tobacco and aromatic herbs,
which he also drew from beneath his robe, and lighted it with a coal which
one of the chiefs brought from the fire. Then he took three whiffs and
gravely and silently passed the pipe to the chief of the Shawnee belt
bearers, Big Fox. It was a curious fact, but no one had said that Big Fox
was the chief of the three. Something in his manner made all take it for
granted, and Big Fox, too, unconsciously accepted it as a matter of
course.

The magnificent young warrior took three whiffs at the pipe of peace, and
passed it to Brown Bear, who, after doing the same, handed it in his turn
to The Bat. Then it was passed on to all the subchiefs, and everyone
smoked it in gravity and silence. The smoke circled up in rings against
the low roof, and every man sat upon his mat of skins, painted,
motionless, and wordless. The young chief, Big Fox, waited. Though his
eyes never turned, he saw every detail of the scene, and he was conscious
of the tense and breathless silence. He was conscious, too, of the immense
dangers that surrounded his comrades and himself, but fear was not in his
heart.

"My brethren have come to the Miami village with a message from their
friends, the Shawnees," said the ancient chief at last.

"It is so," said Big Fox.

"The hearts of the Shawnees are filled with hatred of the white men, who
have come into the hunting grounds beyond the Ohio, and who cut down trees
and build houses there."

"It is so."

Big Fox's gaze never wavered. He continued to look straight at the council
fire, and the tense silence came again. Big Fox was conscious that the air
in the Council House was heavy, and that all were watching