During the discussion, numbers had continued to come in, until there were over a hundred gathered together.

The moon was shining from a clear sky overhead, and the group gathered on the open prairie, where the members thereof were in readiness to dash in any direction, in case of an attack.

With the words of Lone Wolf came the adjournment of the convention.

The talk ceased instantly, as if by magic, and the heads of the horses were turned toward the north.
The Indians were about to leave the neighborhood where they had been so roughly used by the whites.

A number had already gone, bearing with them the dead and wounded, and the remainder were about to depart--that is, for a time, until their forces could be marshaled into a body that would sweep New Boston from the face of the earth.