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!" 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.