es gave their
voices for death. Many of the friendly allies did not give their
decision at all, but said to Multnomah,--

"You speak for us; your word shall be our word."

When the dissatisfied chiefs were asked for their counsel, the sullen
reply was given,--

"I have no tongue to-day;" or "I do not know."

Multnomah seemed not to notice their answers. Only those who knew him
best saw a gleam kindling in his eyes that told of a terrible
vengeance drawing near. The captive waited passively, seeming neither
to see nor hear.

At length all had spoken or had an opportunity to speak, and Multnomah
rose to give the final decision. Beyond the circle of Willamettes, who
were still indifferent and unconcerned, the discontented bands had
thrown aside all concealment, and stood with bared weapons in their
hands; all murmurs had ceased; there was a deathlike silence in the
dense mob, which seemed gathering itself together for a forward
rush,--the commencement of a fearful massacre.

Behind it were the friendly Cayuses, but not a weapon could be seen
among them. The chief saw all; saw too that his enemies only waited
for him to pronounce sentence upon the captive,--that that was the
preconcerted signal for attack. Now among some of the tribes sentence
was pronounced not by word but by gesture; there was the gesture for
acquittal, the gesture for condemnation.

Multnomah lifted his right hand. There was breathless suspense. What
would it be? Fixing his eyes on the armed malcontents who were waiting
to spring, he clinched his hand and made a downward gesture, as if
striking a blow. It was the death-signal, the death-sentence.

In an instant a deafening shout rang through the grove, and the
bloodthirsty mob surged forward to the massacre.

Then, so suddenly that it blended with and seemed a part of the same
shout, the dreaded Willamette war-cry shook the earth. Quick as
thought, the Willamettes who had been lounging so idly around the
grove were on their feet, their blankets thrown aside, the weapons
that had been concealed under them ready in their hands. A wall of
indomitable warriors had leaped up around the grove. At the same
moment, the Cayuses in the rear bared their weapons and shouted back
the Willamette war-cry.

The rebels were staggered. The trap was sprung on them before they
knew that there was a trap. Those in front shrank back from the iron
warriors of Multnomah, those in the rear wavered before the fierce