ffalo robe over the entrance was lifted, and Yellow Panther
returned. Behind him came a second figure.

The eyes of Big Fox turned slowly from the council fire, and looked
straight into those of Braxton Wyatt.

CHAPTER XIII

BRAXTON WYATT'S ORDEAL

The blood of Big Fox leaped for a moment in his veins, but it did not show
under the paint of his face. His figure never quivered. He still knew all
the danger, and he knew, moreover, how it had increased since the entrance
of Braxton Wyatt, but he said, in slow, cold tones, full of deadly
meaning:

"It is the white youth who left his own people to come to our village and
join our people. We have received him, but the eyes of the warriors are
still upon him."

The insinuation was evident. The renegade could not be trusted. Already,
with the first words spoken, Big Fox was impeaching his character.

Braxton Wyatt stood with his back to the buffalo robe, which had fallen
again over the entrance, and looked around at the circle of chiefs who had
resumed their seats on the skin mats. Then his eyes met the stern,
accusing gaze of Big Fox, the Shawnee belt bearer, and were held there as
if fascinated. But Braxton Wyatt was not without courage. He wrenched his
eyes away, turned them upon the ancient chief, Gray Beaver, and said:

"I have been long in the Shawnee lodges, great chief of the Miamis, but I
do not know these belt bearers."

There was a murmur, and a stir on the skin mats.

Big Fox scorned to look again at Braxton Wyatt. He gazed steadily at the
council fire, and said in tones of indifference:

"The white youth who left his own people has been in the lodges, where the
old men and women stay; we have been on the war trail with the warriors.
The day we returned to the village we were chosen to bring the peace belts
to our good friends, the Miamis."

"The belt bearers are Big Fox, Brown Bear, and The Bat," said Yellow
Panther, looking at Braxton Wyatt. "You have heard of them? The Shawnee
villages are full of their fame."

"I never saw them, and I never heard of them before," replied Braxton
Wyatt, in a tone of mingled anger and bewilderment, "but I do know that
all the Shawnees wish the Miamis to go south with them at once, on the
great war trail against the white settlements."

The old chief, Gray Beaver, looked from the belt bearers to Braxton Wyatt
and from Braxton Wyatt to the belt bearers. His aged brain was bewildered
by the conflicting tales,