ship
of the Nootkas or Hydahs, who made the more elaborate pipes used by
the Indians of the Columbia River.

Muttering some mystical incantation, he waved it to the east and the
west, to the north and the south; and when the charm was complete,
gave it to Multnomah, who smoked it and passed it to Snoqualmie. From
chief to chief it circled around the whole council, but among them
were those who sat with eyes fixed moodily on the ground and would not
so much as touch or look at it. As the pipe passed round there was a
subdued murmur and movement in the multitude, a low threatening
clamor, as yet held in check by awe of Multnomah and dread of the
Willamette warriors. But the war-chief seemed unconscious that any had
refused the pipe. He now arose and said,--

"The pipe is smoked. Are not our hearts as one? Is there not perfect
trust between us? Now let us talk. First of all, Multnomah desires
wise words from his brethren. Last winter one of the tribes rose up
against Multnomah, saying that he should no longer be elder brother
and war-chief of the tribes. But the rebels were beaten and all of
them slain save the chief, who was reserved to be tried before you.
You in your wisdom shall decide what shall be done with the warrior
who has rebelled against his chief and stained his hands with the
blood of his brethren."

Two Willamette braves then entered the circle, bringing with them one
whose hands were tied behind him, whose form was emaciated with hunger
and disease, but whose carriage was erect and haughty. Behind came a
squaw, following him into the very presence of Multnomah, as if
resolved to share his fortunes to the last. It was his wife. She was
instantly thrust back and driven with brutal blows from the council.
But she lingered on the outskirts of the crowd, watching and waiting
with mute, sullen fidelity the outcome of the trial. No one looked at
her, no one cared for her; even her husband's sympathizers jostled the
poor shrinking form aside,--for she was only a squaw, while he was a
great brave.

He looked a great brave, standing there before Multnomah and the
chiefs with a dignity in his mien that no reverse could crush, no
torture could destroy. Haggard, starved, bound, his eyes gleamed
deathless and unconquerable hate on council and war-chief alike.
There were dark and menacing looks among the malcontents; in the
captive they saw personified their own loss of freedom and the hated
domination of the Willam