the Iroquois.

Now Thayendanegea gave the wampum belts back to the attendant,
who returned them to Satekariwate, the Mohawk. There was a
silence once more, and then the chosen singer began the Consoling
Song again, but now he did not sing it alone. Two hundred male
voices joined him, and the time became faster. Its tone changed
from mourning and sorrow to exultation and menace. Everyone
thought of war, the tomahawk, and victory. The song sung as it
was now became a genuine battle song, rousing and thrilling. The
Long House trembled with the mighty chorus, and its volume poured
forth into the encircling dark woods.

All the time the song was going on, Satekariwate, the Mohawk,
stood holding the belts in his hand, but when it was over he gave
them to an attendant, who carried them to another head chief.
Thayendanegea now went to the center of the room and, standing
between the two fires, asked who were the candidates for the
places of the dead chiefs.

The dead chiefs were three, and three tall men, already chosen
among their own tribes, came forward to succeed them. Then a
fourth came, and Henry was startled. It was Timmendiquas, who,
as the bravest chief of the brave Wyandots, was about to become,
as a signal tribute, and as a great sign of friendship, an
adopted son and honorary chief of the Mohawks, Keepers of the
Western Gate, and most warlike of all the Iroquois tribes.

As Timmendiquas stood before Thayendanegea, a murmur of approval
deeper than any that had gone before ran through all the crowd in