The North Wind spoke in a voice of sorrow:--
"An atonement to the Great White Chief for the sins of our nation.
Perchance the Great Chief will deign to strike a tomahawk into their
heads, that our nation may be saved in war by the Big Knives." And the
North Wind held forth the pipe once more.
"I have nothing to say to you," said Clark.
Still they stood irresolute, their minds now bereft of expedients. And
the young men sat motionless on the ground. As Clark talked they peered
out from under their blankets, once, twice, thrice. He was still talking
to the wondering Monsieur Gratiot. But no other voice was heard, and the
eyes of all were turned on him in amazement. But at last, when the drama
had risen to the pitch of unbearable suspense, he looked down upon the
two miserable pyramids at his feet, and touched them. The blankets
quivered.
"Stand up," said the Colonel, "and uncover."
They rose, cast the blankets from them, and stood with a stoic dignity
awaiting his pleasure. Wonderful, fine-limbed men they were, and for
the first time Clark's eyes were seen to kindle.
"I thank the Great Spirit," said he, in a loud voice, "that I have found
men among your nation. That I have at last discovered the real chiefs of
your people. Had they sent such as you to treat with me in the beginning
all might have been well.
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