"The warriors are there," said the spokesman. "They are watching, and will know what the squaw says."
"But what are they there for?" Owindia demanded, now looking the Indian full in the face.
"To watch the Council. They wish to be near to see the great white warriors. They have heard much about them, and now desire to look upon them."
At these words Owindia drew herself up to her full height. She was no longer a cringing Indian girl, but a woman thrilled by a nobleness of purpose which could meet suffering and death without a tremor. The white people were in danger. Should she repeat those words and draw them forth the blame would be upon her own head. Natsatt would come, she was sure of that, and how could she see him surrounded by the Coast wolves, and either killed before her very eyes or taken back across the mountains for a worse fate? Would she not be a traitor, and what would her father say? It was not so much through reason as by natural perception and instinct of the wild that she arrived at this conclusion.
"Will the squaw speak?"
The brave's voice startled her, and she glanced quickly toward him.
"Owindia will speak," she replied. "What else is there for her to do?"
"Be careful what you say," came the warning. "Speak only such words as you were told."
A faint expression of contempt, mingled with triumph might have been detected upon Owindia's face as she turned away from the brave at her side. She looked toward the Post. It was as silent as death. The barricade stood out grim and defiant. It was but a small structure there in the wilderness, defended by only a handful of men. Yet it was standing boldly up before a hostile band of natives, who for long years had held the land in subjection and cruel bondage. It was the sign of the advent of a new day, the prelude of the coming of a dominant race, strong, progressive, and grasping. The Chilcats might beat down those wooden walls, they might annihilate the defenders, and for a time seem to conquer. But they could not through pillage and slaughter stem the current which had already set in small at first, but increasing in force and intensity until it had swept the power from their grasp. Owindia knew nothing of this, neither did she realise how great was the import of her own heroic action in seeking to save the lives of those few white traders, the forelopers of a varied throng yet to come. Her thoughts were upon her lover. He was behind those walls, and him she must save, no matter what the cost to herself. No sign of life could she see at the Post, though she was well aware that watchful eyes were peering through the port-holes of the fortification. She was not far away, and could, therefore, be easily heard.
"White traders," she began in a clear, firm voice, "the Chilcats ask you to come out here to meet them, to talk with them. But do not come. The whole band is lying among the trees waiting to fall upon the white men, and kill them. Owindia gives the warning. She speaks true."