s
fathers, then there will be peace.

"Tohomish has spoken; his words are ended, and ended forever."

The harsh, disjointed tones ceased. All eyes fell again on Cecil, the
representative of the race by which the Willamettes were doomed. The
wrath of all those hundreds, the vengeance of all those gathered
tribes of the Wauna, the hatred of the whole people he had come to
save, seemed to rise up and fall upon him the frail invalid with the
sharp pain throbbing at his heart.

But that strange peace was on him still, and his eyes, dilated and
brilliant in the extremity of physical pain, met those lowering brows
with a look of exceeding pity.

Multnomah rose to pronounce sentence. For him there could be but one
decision, and he gave it,--the clinched hand, the downward gesture,
that said, "There is death between us. We will slay as we shall be
slain."

Cecil was on his feet, though it seemed as if he must fall within the
moment. He fought down the pain that pierced his heart like a knife;
he gathered the last resources of an exhausted frame for one more
effort. The executioners sprang forward with the covering for his eyes
that was to shut out the light forever. His glance, his gesture held
them back; they paused irresolutely, even in the presence of
Multnomah; weak as Cecil was, he was the great white _tomanowos_
still, and they dared not touch him. There was a pause, an intense
silence.

"I gave up all to come and tell you of God, and you have condemned me
to die at the torture-stake," said the soft, low voice, sending
through their stern hearts its thrill and pathos for the last time.
"But you shall not bring this blood-stain upon your souls. The hand of
the Great Spirit is on me; he takes me to himself. Remember--what I
have said. The Great Spirit loves you. Pray--forgive--be at peace.
Remember--"

The quiver of agonizing pain disturbed the gentleness of his look; he
reeled, and sank to the ground. For a moment the slight form shuddered
convulsively and the hands were clinched; then the struggle ceased and
a wonderful brightness shone upon his face. His lips murmured
something in his own tongue, something into which came the name of
Wallulah and the name of God. Then his eyes grew dim and he lay very
still. Only the expression of perfect peace still rested on the face.
Sachems and warriors gazed in awe upon the beauty, grand in death, of
the one whom the Great Spirit had taken from them. Perhaps the iron
heart