"When the Big Knives come upon such people in the wilderness," Clark
answered, "they shoot them down that they may not eat the deer. But they
have never talked of it."

He turned from them once more; they went away in a dejection to wring our
compassion, and we thought the matter ended at last. The sun was falling
low, the people beginning to move away, when, to the astonishment of all,
the culprits were seen coming back again. With them were two young men
of their own nation. The Indians opened up a path for them to pass
through, and they came as men go to the grave. So mournful, so
impressive withal, that the crowd fell into silence again, and the
Colonel turned his eyes. The two young men sank down on the ground
before him and shrouded their heads in their blankets.

"What is this?" Clark demanded.

The North Wind spoke in a voice of sorrow:--

"An atonement to the Great White Chief for the sins of our nation.
Perchance the Great Chief will deign to strike a tomahawk into their
heads, that our nation may be saved in war by the Big Knives." And the
North Wind held forth the pipe once more.

"I have nothing to say to you," said Clark.

Still they stood irresolute, their minds now bereft of expedients. And
the young men sat motionless on the ground. As Clark talked they peered
out from under their blankets, once, twice, thrice. He was still talking
to the wondering Monsieur Gratiot. But no other voice was heard, and the
eyes of all were turned on him in amazement. But at last, when the drama