grunted an answer to something they would fling at him, and went on. At
length arrived three chiefs whom I knew to be high in the councils. The
North Wind came out to them, and the four blanketed forms stood
silhouetted between me and the fire for a quarter of an hour. By this
time I was sure of a plot, and fled away to another tree for fear of
detection. At length stalked through the street the Hungry Wolf, the
interpreter. I knew this man to be friendly to Clark, and I acted on
impulse. He gave a grunt of surprise when I halted before him. I made
up my mind.

"The son of the Great Chief knows that the Puans have wickedness in their
hearts to-night," I said; "the tongue of the Hungry Wolf does not lie."

The big Indian drew back with another grunt, and the distant firelight
flashed on his eyes as on polished black flints.

"Umrrhh! Is the Pale Face Chief's son a prophet?"

"The anger of the Pale Face Chief and of his countrymen is as the
hurricane," I said, scarce believing my own ears. For a lad is imitative
by nature, and I had not listened to the interpreters for three days
without profit.

The Hungry Wolf grunted again, after which he was silent for a long time.
Then he said:--

"Let the Chief of the Long Knives have guard tonight." And suddenly he
was gone into the darkness.

I waded the creek and sped to Clark. He was alone now, the shutters of