She parted from him with the same pleasant manner. As he left the room he looked back—she had taken up her sleeping child and was pressing it to her bosom, as if all her thoughts had centered again in that engrossing maternal love.
CHAPTER XI.
A NEW LINK IN THE CHAIN.
Mahaska sat motionless until she heard her husband’s footsteps die away from the outer room; then she laid the child back among the cushions and hurried to the window. She then pushed the draperies aside and looked out. From her stand she could see far up the lake, which was lying placid and bright in the afternoon sun. The whole scene was one of such pleasant summer tranquillity, so out of tune with her wild thoughts, that she gazed upon it as a lost spirit might look into heaven. She saw Gi-en-gwa-tah come out upon the bank accompanied by a couple of his men—stood there and watched the canoe unmoored, and all their preparations made complete. They were off at last, paddling swiftly up the lake; but still she watched them until the barque became a mere speck in the distance. Then she put silver whistle to her lips and blew a shrill call—her usual summons to the squaws who attended upon her. When an Indian woman came in she motioned her to take away the child, resumed her eager walk for a few moments’ reflection, but soon hurried from the house. She walked down into into the village, pausing to speak kindly to a group of women sunning themselves on the grass, followed, as she always was, by looks of love and awe when she appeared among her people, and made her way toward the lodge inhabited by the old chief, Upepah.
He was sitting there in characteristic indolence, surrounded by several chiefs nearest his own age and dignity. When they saw Mahaska enter so unexpectedly they arose, with the grave courtesy she had taught them as her due, waiting in silence for her to declare the errand which had led to that unusual visit. Knowing that they were all in favor of her schemes against the French, there was no need for argument and persuasion.
“The queen has come to hold council with her father,” she said to the old chief, “and with the wise chiefs gathered about him.”
“It is well,” Upepah answered; “let the queen speak.”
She motioned them to be seated, and sat down among them, calm and deliberate in every action as was in accordance with their habits.
“The queen has tidings from the English chief,” she said; “his nation are out on the war-path against the French.”
They never asked how her information was acquired; in their strong faith in her supernatural powers they believed it easy for her to attain any knowledge.
“The time has come,” she continued, “to prove to the English that the chiefs were not deceiving them in their protestations of friendship—are they ready?”