In the
shadow of the gate behind were Pierre and the halfbreeds, with guns
cocked.
Macavoy had lived so long in the north that he knew enough of all the
languages to speak to this tribe. When he came out a murmur of wonder
ran among the Indians. They had never seen anyone so tall, for they were
not great of stature, and his huge beard and wild shock of hair were a
wonderful sight. He remained silent, looking on them. At last the old
chief spoke. "Who are you?"
"I am a great chief from the Hills of the Mighty Men, come to be your
king," was his reply.
"He is your king," cried Pierre in a strange voice from the shadow of the
gate, and he thrust out his gun-barrel, so that they could see it.
The Indians now saw Pierre and the half-breeds in the gateway, and they
had not so much awe. They came a little nearer, and the women stopped
crying. A few of the braves half-raised their spears. Seeing this,
Pierre instantly stepped forward to the giant. He looked a child in
stature thereby. He spoke quickly and well in the Chinook language.
"This is a mighty man from the Hills of the Mighty Men. He has come to
rule over you, to give all other tribes into your hands; for he has
strength like a thousand, and fears nothing of gods nor men. I have the
blood of red men in me. It is I who have called this man from his
distant home. I heard of your fighting and foolishness: also that
warriors were to come from the south country to scatter your wives and
children, and to make you slaves.
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