head was almost flat, running back from his
eyebrows so obliquely that when he stood erect he seemed to have no
forehead at all; while the back and lower part of his head showed an
enormous development,--a development that was all animal. He knew
nothing but battle, and was one of the most dreaded warriors of the
Willamettes.

He spoke,--not in the royal language, as did the others, but in the
common dialect, the only one of which he was master.

"My heart is as the heart of Multnomah. Mishlah is hungry for war. If
the tribes that are our younger brothers are faithful, they will come
to the council and smoke the pipe of peace with us; if they are not,
let us know it. Mishlah knows not what it is to wait. You all talk
words, words, words; and the tribes laugh and say, 'The Willamettes
have become women and sit in the lodge sewing moccasins and are afraid
to fight.' Send out the runners. Call the council. Let us find who are
our enemies; then let us strike!"

The hands of the chief closed involuntarily as if they clutched a
weapon, and his voice rang harsh and grating. The eyes of Multnomah
flashed fire, and the war-lust kindled for a moment on the dark faces
of the listeners.

Then rose the grotesque figure of an Indian, ancient, withered, with
matted locks and haggard face, who had just joined the council,
gliding in noiselessly from the neighboring wood. His cheek-bones were
unusually high, his lower lip thick and protruding, his eyes deeply
sunken, his face drawn, austere, and dismal beyond description. The
mis-shapen, degraded features repelled at first sight; but a second
glance revealed a great dim sadness in the eyes, a gloomy foreboding
on brow and lip that were weirdly fascinating, so sombre were they, so
full of woe. There was a wild dignity in his mien; and he wore the
robe of furs, though soiled and torn, that only the richest chiefs
were able to wear. Such was Tohomish, or Pine Voice, chief of the
Santiam tribe of the Willamettes, the most eloquent orator and potent
medicine or _tomanowos_ man in the confederacy.

There was a perceptible movement of expectation, a lighting up of
faces as he arose, and a shadow of anxiety swept over Multnomah's
impassive features. For this man's eloquence was wonderful, and his
soft magnetic tones could sway the passions of his hearers to his will
with a power that seemed more than human to the superstitious Indians.
Would he declare for the council or against it; for