A dozen came forth thus, stalwart, grim-faced braves, many with fresh scalps dangling at their belts.
Gomo now spoke again, using the French tongue, that all present might better grasp his meaning.
"Brothers," he said gravely, "this squaw is Pottawattomie.

She was adopted by our people and lives in our lodges.

Pottawattomies are friends to Frenchmen; there is no war between us.

Why should Wyandots and Sacs wish to burn a Frenchman ?" For a moment no one ventured to reply; the mob stood halted now, robbed of its leaders and its courage, even the noisy medicine-man silenced before this stern array of protecting chiefs.

Loose as was Indian discipline and tribal authority, even in drunkenness those desperate warriors dared not openly disregard such a display of power.
"Have the Pottawattomies spoken well ?" questioned the old chief, sternly, "or have our words wronged our brothers ?" A giant of a fellow, whose broad face and huge head seemed disproportionate even to his big body, his long coarse hair profusely ornamented with shells and beads flashing gaudily in the firelight, pushed his way out from among the silent mass.
"Gomo, the great war-chief of the Pottawattomies, has spoken well," he said in a deep voice that rolled like distant thunder.