Then, after a sumptuous feast on the most unsubstantial of French pastry and ice cream, articles devoured with intense relish by the wild sons of the prairie, the Governor opened negotiations by a delicate hint that business was in order.
Ruby at once became spokeswoman for her party, and proceeded to explain the object of her visit in a speech which excited general grunts of approbation from her stoical attendants.
“We have come,” said the girl, in the metaphorical Indian style, “from the banks of the great river to the east, to the father of all waters. We are few as a flock of antelopes, but behind us are our brothers, like the buffalo, without number. From the great fresh sea on the north, by the country of the Michigans, to the great river Ohio, that never fails, we are one house, and that house has one door, who is our Red Father. The Grand Door has opened to let us forth, to bring great words to our French father. Tabac has spoken, and if our French Father listen to his words it is well. If not, we will go back, and the door will be shut.”
“The French Father is dead,” said Rocheblave, cautiously. “He can not hear my red brethren’s words. We have an English father now, who gives us blankets and guns. Let the chiefs talk to him.”
Rocheblave, though of French parents, was entirely devoted to the English government, and he hoped by speaking as he did, to check the proposition he felt, rather than saw, was coming.
Ruby proceeded with simple directness to her mission.
“The Great Spirit has sent a bird to his children,” she said, “to speak with a straight tongue and tell us the truth. He tells us that the French Father is not dead. He has been asleep for many years, but now is awake. He calls to his red-children to arouse and drive out the fork-tongued English who have stolen his lands, and hired the red-men to make war on the Big-Knives (Americans). The French Father has made friends with the Big-Knives, and has declared war against the English. My father is French and ought to love his French Father. The Grand Door is open, and if the Governor of Kaskaskia is wise, he will enter into our house, and forsake the fork-tongues forever, as we have. I have spoken.”
The Governor was astounded. This was the first intelligence he had received of the American alliance with France, so lately concluded. He could hardly credit it. Therefore, he said:
“Is my daughter sure that the bird spoke true? There are lying birds about, sent by the rebellious Big-Knives. Let my red brothers beware of such.”
“The bird spoke true,” said Ruby, firmly. “The tribes of the Wabash are ashamed to have served the English. Henceforth they befriend the Big-Knives, as their French Father wishes them. I have spoken.”