for the present, peace."

He took from beneath his robe the peace belts, message of the Shawnee
nation, and handed them to the old, old chief, Gray Beaver. The murmur
from the Miamis became deep and long, but Big Fox gazed once more at the
fire, painted, silent, and immovable.

"It was war when I was in the Shawnee village, a moon ago," said a chief,
Yellow Panther, "and it was war belts that we expected. Why have the
Shawnees changed their minds?"

Murmurs of approval greeted his words, but Big Fox never stirred.

"The old men, the wise men of the Shawnees have so decided," he replied.
"It is not for the bearer of the belts to question their wisdom."

"If the Shawnees wish to wait long to prepare, the Miamis must wait, too,"
said the chief, Gray Beaver, in whose veins flowed the cold and languid
blood of old age.

The younger chiefs murmured again. Big Fox was conscious that a powerful
faction of the Miamis wished to go on a winter war path, and strike the
settlements at once. But Big Fox was still unafraid. He was a forest
diplomatist as well as a forest warrior, and he played for the most
precious of all stakes, the lives of his people.

"The great chiefs of the Shawnees have lived long," he said. "Their heads
are heavy with age and with wisdom. It is not well to waste our strength
with a blow which will not reach the mark, but it is good to wait until we
can strike true."

The chief, Yellow Panther, arose. He was a tall and ferocious savage, with
a cunning countenance.

"The Shawnees change their minds quickly," he said, in tones of subtle and
insulting insinuation. "There is one here who came from their village but
three days since, and then they looked not so kindly upon the peace belts.
It is well to bring him to this council of the Miamis."

He glanced at Gray Beaver and the ancient chief nodded. Then Yellow
Panther stepped from the Council House.

The heart of Big Fox stirred within him ever so slightly. What did Yellow
Panther mean by "one who had come but three days since"? A new factor was
entering the terrible game. But he showed no emotion, nor did his
comrades, the other two belt bearers, Brown Bear and The Bat. Neither of
the latter had spoken since he entered the Council House.

The murmurs ceased, and all sank back on their skin mats. Silence resumed
absolute sway in the long room. The little eddies of smoke still curled
against the roof, and the air was surcharged with suspense.

The bu