T HE word uttered by the strange woman was one to conjure with even then in the Illinois country. Many a year had passed since the French flag ruled those prairies, yet not a warrior there but knew how the men of that race avenged an injury,—how swift their stroke, how keen their steel.  
I watched the startled throng press closely backward, as if awed by her mysterious presence, influenced insensibly by her terse sentence of command, each dusky face a reflex of its owner's perplexity. Drunken as most of them were, crazed with savage blood-lust and hours of remorseless torture of their victims, for the moment that sweet vision of womanly purity held them motionless, as if indeed the figure of the Christ she uplifted before their faces had taught them abhorrence of their crimes.
 
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But it was not for long. To hundreds of those present she was merely an unknown white woman; while even to those who knew her best, the Pottawattomies, she appeared only as one who came to balk them of their revenge. They may have held her person inviolate amid their lodges, and even have countenanced her strange teaching; but now she had ventured too far in attempting thus to stand between them and their victim. They held back a single moment, halted by her fearlessness, rendered cowardly by vague superstitions regarding her religious power; but after the first breathless pause of dumb astonishment and irresolution, voice after voice arose in hoarse cries of rage and shouts of disapproval. There was a surging forward of the straining red line, while in their front howled and gesticulated the hideous old medicine-man, his painted face distorted by passion, eager to grasp this auspicious moment to cast down forever one who had sought to end his superstitious rule among the tribe. I marked how she drew back as they advanced, retreating step by step,—not, in deed, as if she feared them, but rather as if some definite purpose led her movement. Her eyes never wavered, her hand still uplifted the gleaming cross, as she retreated slowly, until she stood directly before De Croix, where he hung helplessly staring at her with an expression of fear in his face strangely at variance with his late show of desperate courage.
 
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"Back!" she cried again, but now in a deeper and fuller voice that sounded like a clear-toned bell above the uproar. "I tell you I will kill this man with my own hand before I permit you to put further torture upon him!"
 
An instant only did this threat halt the gathering rush. Some one voiced an Indian insult, and there came a fierce surging forward, although no warrior among them seemed eager to lead in the attack. I saw the woman lift her hand, and caught the glimmer of a steel blade; and even as I sprang erect, partially flinging aside the obstructing flap of the lodge, an Indian, stalking silently forth from the shadows, faced the mob, standing motionless within a foot of the desperate girl, and with his back toward her. One glance at that tall thin figure, the stern face, the long white hair, told me it was the great war-chief of the Pottawattomies, Gomo; and I sank back trembling from the reaction of that moment's strain.
 
His words were calm, deliberate, commanding; but the angry roar with which they were greeted made me fear the horde he faced so resolutely was now beyond control. He smiled, his thin lips curling in derision as he gazed with contempt into the threatening faces pressing closer upon every side.
 
"Fear not," he murmured aside to the watchful woman, and resting one hand upon her arm. "Cut loose the prisoner!"
 
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She turned instantly to her task, while he spoke briefly the names of his chiefs; and as each was called in turn, a warrior came from among the mass and silently stood beside him. A dozen came forth thus, stalwart, grim-faced braves, many with fresh scalps dangling at their belts.
 
Gomo now spoke again, using the French tongue, that all present might better grasp his meaning.
 
"Brothers," he said gravely, "this squaw is Pottawattomie. She was adopted by our people and lives in our lodges. Pottawattomies are friends to Frenchmen; there is no war between us. Why should Wyandots and Sacs wish to burn a Frenchman?"
 
For a moment no one ventured to reply; the mob stood halted now, robbed of its leaders and its courage, even the noisy medicine-man silenced before this stern array of protecting chiefs. Loose as was Indian discipline and tribal authority, even in drunkenness those desperate warriors dared not openly disregard such a display of power.
 
"Have the Pottawattomies spoken well?" questioned the old chief, sternly, "or have our words wronged our brothers?"
 
A giant of a fellow, whose broad face and huge head seemed disproportionate even to his big body, his long coarse hair profusely ornamented with shells and beads flashing gaudily in the firelight, pushed his way out from among the silent mass.
 
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"Gomo, the great war-chief of the Pottawattomies, has spoken well," he said in a deep voice that rolled like distant thunder. "The Wyandots did not know; they war not with Frenchmen, nor harm the women of the Pottawattomies. The Great Spirit hath made us brothers, and we have smoked together the pipe of peace."
 
Gomo moved forward with Indian dignity, and exchanged solemn greeting with the new-comer.
 
"It makes the hearts of the Pottawattomies light to hear the words of Sau-ga-nash," he said gravely. Then he turned and waved his hand to his clustered warriors. "Release the Frenchman, and place him for safety in the council lodge. Pass the woman free. It is the will of our chiefs."
 
The council lodge! I glanced about me apprehensively; surely this must be the same tepee in which Captain Heald and I had met the chiefs! There were no signs of ordinary Indian occupancy, and now as I looked about me the firelight from without revealed clearly the shading of those grotesque figures I recalled as having been sketched upon the outer covering. So it was here that De Croix was to be confined! I crept back hastily, dropping into place the loosened flap through which I had been peering. A skin or two were lying on the grassy floor; and I grasped the larger of these, drawing it over me while I rolled as closely as possible against the farther wall, hoping ? 319 ? desperately that no Indian guards would be posted within.
 
The uproar outside continued, as if there were still opposition to the commands of the chiefs; but presently, as I peeped through a hole in the skin held over me, I perceived a sudden flash of light as the flap covering the entrance was drawn aside. I saw a number of dark hands thrust within, a savage face or two peering for a moment about the darkened interior; but to my inexpressible relief only one body was thrust inside, with such violence, however, as to cause the man to fall face downward at full length. The next instant the lodge was again wrapped in utter darkness. By God's mercy I remained undiscovered, and was alone with De Croix.
 
For a s............