s in
the last extremity of disease.

"Shall we choose another war-chief to sit in Multnomah's place? We
may; but will he be Multnomah? The glory of the Willamettes is dead!
Talk no more of war, when our war-strength is gone from us. The Bridge
is fallen, the Great Spirit is against us. Let those who are to live
talk of war. It is time for us to learn how to die."

He sunk flushed and exhausted upon the ground. Then rose an aged
chief, so old that it seemed as if a century of time had passed over
him. His hair was a dirty gray, his eyes dull and sunken, his face
withered. He supported himself with tremulous bony hands upon his
staff. His voice was feeble, and seemed like an echo from the
long-perished past.

"I am old, the oldest of all the Willamettes. I have seen so many
winters that no man can count them. I knew Multnomah's father. I went
forth to battle with his father's father; and even before that I knew
others, warriors of a forgotten time. Or do I dream? I know not. The
weight of the time that I have lived is very heavy, and my mind sinks
under it. My form is bowed with the burden of winters. Warriors, I
have seen many councils, many troubles, but never a trouble like this.
Of what use is your council? Can the words of wise men stay disease?
Can the edge of the tomahawk turn back sickness? Can you fight against
the Great Spirit? He sent the white man to tell us of our sins and
warn us to be better, and you closed your ears and would not listen.
Nay, you would have slain him had not the Great Spirit taken him away.
These things would not have come upon us had you listened to the white
_shaman_. You have offended the Great Spirit, and he has broken the
Bridge and sent disease upon us; and all that your wisdom may devise
can avail naught to stay his wrath. You can but cover your faces in
silence, and die."

For a moment the council was very still. The memory of the white
wanderer, his strong and tender eloquence, his fearless denunciation,
his loving and passionate appeal, was on them all. _Was_ the Great
Spirit angry with them because they had rejected him?

"Who talks of dying?" said a fierce warrior, starting to his feet.
"Leave that to women and sick men! Shall we stay here to perish while
life is yet strong within us? The valley is shadowed with death; the
air is disease; an awful sickness wastes the people; our enemies rush
in upon us. Shall we then lie down like dogs and wait for death? No.
Let us leav