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ef had taken his place in the council. There was a long, ceremonious pause. Then Multnomah arose. He looked over the council, upon the stern faces of the Willamettes and the loyal tributaries, upon the sullen faces of the malcontents, upon the fierce and lowering multitude beyond. Over the throng he looked, and felt as one feels who stands on the brink of a volcano; yet his strong voice never rang stronger, the grand old chief never looked more a chief than then. "He is every inch a king," thought Cecil. The chief spoke in the common Willamette language, at that time the medium of intercourse between the tribes as the Chinook is now. The royal tongue was not used in a mixed council. "Warriors and chiefs, Multnomah gives you welcome. He spreads the buffalo-robe." He made the Indian gesture of welcome, opening his hands to them with a backward and downward gesture, as of one spreading a robe. "To the warriors Multnomah says, 'The grass upon my prairies is green for your horses; behold the wood, the water, the game; they are yours.' To the chiefs he says, 'The mat is spread for you in my own lodge and the meat is cooked.' The hearts of the Willamettes change not as the winters go by, and your welcome is the same as of old. Word came to us that the tribes were angry and had spoken bitter things against the Willamettes; yes, that they longed for the confederacy to be broken and the old days to come again when tribe was divided against tribe and the Shoshones and Spokanes trampled upon you all. But Multnomah trusted his allies; for had they not smoked the peace-pipe with him and gone with him on the war-trail? So he stopped his ears and would not listen, but let those rumors go past him like thistle-down upon the wind. "Warriors, Multnomah has shown his heart. What say you? Shall the peace-pipe be lighted and the talk begin?" He resumed his seat. All eyes turned to where the peace-pipe and the tomahawk lay side by side before the council. Multnomah seemed waiting for them to choose between the two. Then Snoqualmie, the bravest and most loyal of the tributaries, spoke. "Let the peace-pipe be lighted; we come not for strife, but to be knit together." The angry malcontents in the council only frowned and drew their blankets closer around them. Tohomish the seer, as the oldest chief and most renowned medicine-man present, came forward and lighted the pipe,--a long, thin piece of carving in black stone, the workman
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