tribes, and no man can destroy them. Yes, they go out words, but they
will come back arrows and war in the day of vengeance when the tribes
shall rise against the oppressor.

"I have spoken, my words are done."

He stood erect and motionless. The wrath and disdain passed from his
features, and stoicism settled over them like a mask of stone.
Multnomah's cold regard had not faltered a moment under the chief's
invective. No denunciation could shake that iron self-control.

The rebellious chiefs interchanged meaning glances; the throng of
malcontents outside the grove pressed closer upon the ring of
Willamette warriors, who were still standing or squatting idly around
it. More than one weapon could be seen among them in defiance of the
war-chief's prohibition; and the presage of a terrible storm darkened
on those grim, wild faces. The more peaceably disposed bands began to
draw themselves apart. An ominous silence crept through the crowd as
they felt the crisis approaching.

But Multnomah saw nothing, and the circle of Willamette warriors were
stolidly indifferent.

"Can they not see that the tribes are on the verge of revolt?" thought
Cecil, anxiously, fearing a bloody massacre.

"You have heard the words of the rebel. What have you to say? Let the
white man speak first, as he was the last to join us."

Cecil rose and pictured in the common Willamette tongue, with which he
had familiarized himself during his long stay with the Cayuses, the
terrible results of disunion, the desolating consequences of
war,--tribe clashing against tribe and their common enemies trampling
on them all. Even those who were on the verge of insurrection listened
reverently to the "white wizard," who had drawn wisdom from the Great
Spirit; but it did not shake their purpose. Their own dreamers had
talked with the Great Spirit too, in trance and vision, and had
promised them victory over the Willamettes.

Tohomish followed; and Cecil, who had known some of the finest orators
in Europe, listened in amazement to a voice the most musical he had
ever heard. He looked in wonder on the repulsive features that seemed
so much at variance with those melodious intonations. Tohomish pleaded
for union and for the death of the rebel. It seemed for a moment as if
his soft, persuasive accents would win the day, but it was only for a
moment; the spell was broken the instant he ceased. Then Snoqualmie
spoke. One by one, the great sachems of the Willamett