Mount Hood and thick black smoke
still puffed upward from it, and on Mount Adams rested a heavy cloud
of volcanic vapors. Were the mountains angry? Aged men told how in the
old time there had been a terrible outburst of flame and ashes from
Mount Hood; a rain of fire and stones had fallen over all the
Willamette valley; the very earth had trembled at the great mountain's
wrath.

As the lower animals feel in the air the signs of a coming storm, so
these savages felt, by some kindred intuition, that a mysterious
convulsion of Nature was at hand. They talked in low tones, they were
subdued in manner; any one coming suddenly upon them would have been
impressed by the air of uneasiness and apprehension that everywhere
prevailed. But the chiefs were stoical, and Multnomah impassive as
ever.

Could it have been that the stormy influences at work in Nature lent
energy to the orators that day? They were unusually animated, at least
for Indians, though a white man would have found them intolerably
bombastic. Each speech was a boastful eulogy of the speaker's tribe,
and an exaggerated account of the wonderful exploits of its warriors.

This was rather dangerous ground; for all the tribes had been at
enmity in days gone by, and some of their most renowned victories had
been won over each other. Every one took it in good part, however,
except Mishlah. When We-math, chief of the Klamaths, recounting the
exploits of his race, told how in ancient times they had lorded it
over the Mollalies, Mishlah glared at him as if tempted to leap upon
him and strike him down. Fortunately the orator passed on to other
things, and the wrath of the Mollalie chief gradually cooled.

Then came Cecil. It was a grand opening. He could speak of his own
people, of their ancient savagery and present splendor, and show how
the gospel of love and justice had been the cause of their elevation.
Then would come the appeal to the Indians to accept this faith as
their own and share in its uplifting power. It was a magnificent
opportunity, the opportunity of a life-time.

But the mental conflict he had just passed through had rent his mind
like a volcanic upheaval. It possessed no longer the intense
concentration which had been the source of its strength. Tenderness,
benevolence, missionary zeal, were still there, but no longer
sovereign. Other passions divided his heart; a hopeless and burning
love consumed his being.

He spoke, but the fire was gone from h