I pitied you, and I have brought you a
chief greater than any other. Throw your spears upon the ground, and all
will be well; but raise one to throw, or one arrow, or axe, and there
shall be death among you, so that as a people you shall die. The spirits
are with us. . . . Well?"
The Indians drew a little nearer, but they did not drop their spears, for
the old chief forbade them.
"We are no dogs nor cowards," he said, "though the spirits be with you,
as we believe. We have seen strange things"--he pointed to Young Eye--
"and heard voices not of men; but we would see great things as well as
strange. There are seven men of the Little Skins tribe within a lodge
yonder. They were to die when our braves returned from the hunt, and for
that we prepared the feast. But this mighty man, he shall fight them all
at once, and if he kills them he shall be our king. In the name of my
tribe I speak. And this other," pointing to Pierre, "he shall also fight
with a strong man of our tribe, so that we shall know if you are all
brave, and not as those who crawl at the knees of the mighty."
This was more than Pierre had bargained for. Seven men at Macavoy, and
Indians too, fighting for their lives, was a contract of weight. But
Macavoy was blowing in his beard cheerfully enough.
"Let me choose me ground," he said, "wid me back to the wall, an' I'll
take thim as they come."
Pierre instantly interpreted this to the Indians, and said for himself
that he would welcome their strongest man at the point of a knife when he
chose.
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