I stood for a moment and looked at the garrison.  The moon had crept high and the place was very still.  We were safe for the night.  I lit my pipe, and the smoke that spiraled above me did not seem more filmy than the chance that had saved us.  I suddenly shivered.  But we were safe.  I gave the troops the signal to disband.

I stopped for a moment at Cadillac’s door.  “Sleep well,” I said, with my hand on his; “we have bridged to-night.  Now for the council tomorrow.”

CHAPTER XXVII

IN COUNCIL

The next morning showed the face of War without her mask.  The Indians sat in open council, and the tom-toms sounded from lodge to lodge.  In the Huron camp there were council rings of the women; it was a tribal crisis and was met by a frenzy of speech-making.  As a rival interest Singing Arrow’s wedding made little stir.

I went to the wedding and saw Pierre the savage transformed into Pierre the citizen, the yoke-bearer.  I feared the transformation was not final.  Yet I could never read my giant.  There were unexpected ridges of principle in the general slough of his makeup and perhaps the Indian girl was resting on one of them.

The woman came to the wedding, Starling with her.  I bowed to them both, but I would do no more, for the Indians were watching.  The woman looked pale and grave.  I had seen her angry and I had seen her despairing, but I had never before seen her dispirited.  She looked so now.

And then came the general council with Cadillac in the chair.  It was held in a barrack room and the tribes had forty chiefs in waiting.  There were Ottawas, Hurons, and the party of Senecas.  Feathered and painted, they were as expressionless as the stone calumets in their hands; by contrast, our French faces were childishly open and expressive.

Cadillac looked them over and began his speech.  Commonly his tongue ran trippingly, but with the opening words his speech halted.  I knew he was moved.  With all his volubility the man took responsibility heavily, and these strange bronze men with their cruel eyes and impassive faces were his wards.  He spoke in French, and I translated first to the Hurons, then to the Ottawas.  He called the tribes to aid him in brightening the covenant chain, and his rhetoric mounted with his theme till I felt my blood heat with admiration for him.  He concluded with a plea for loyalty, and he gave each nation a belt to bind his words.

And then the chiefs rose in reply.  The Hurons spoke first, and though they hedged their meaning by look and word I could feel the sentiment swaying toward our side.  They brought up many minor points and gave belts in confirmation.  Kondiaronk’s clan were openly friendly, openly touched by Cadillac’s speech, and when one of the Baron’s band took the cue and gave a wampum necklace, “to deter the French brothers from unkind thoughts,” I