“He will do it. The French are our allies; we will keep faith with them.”
She bent her head with mocking reverence.
“Gi-en-gwa-tah is a great chief,” she said; “he wills a thing only to be obeyed. Let him command the queen’s guards to give up her prisoner.”
“Gi-en-gwa-tah does command,” he replied; “here he will be obeyed.”
The principal warriors had pressed nearer, and listened in silence to the altercation.
“The braves hear,” said Mahaska, turning toward them; “let them tremble before the frown of Gi-en-gwa-tah; they are his slaves.”
An angry murmur went through the throng. Mahaska saw her advantage and went on.
“Does it please Gi-en-gwa-tah that the pale-face should be sent back to-night?” she asked.
He understood the mockery in her voice. Worse still, he perceived that he was quite powerless. The chiefs drew around Mahaska, avoiding him.
“Once more, Gi-en-gwa-tah asks the queen to reflect,” he said: