Ruth and I ate our evening meal together, while Grim crunched a bone contentedly at our sides. Both of us, as our garments had given out, had replaced them with others of very soft skin, while in this cold winter weather we wore furs as did the Crees. When the meal was done we covered over the little fire in the center of the lodge, and stepped to the door.
Five minutes later we were in the lodge of council—a large structure, half skin and half brush. Around the fire were ranged the old men of the village, and the chiefs; and after a dignified silence the calumet was passed around from hand to hand, among the very old men only, for with these people tobacco was rather in the nature of a burnt-offering, and was never smoked for the pleasure therein. Another silence, then the oldest chief arose and very briefly directed Ruth to speak to them as she wished.
CHAPTER XII.
THE MOOSE OF MYSTERY.
I would that I might give here the speech that Ruth made to those Crees, there by the dim light of the little fire, her yellow hair flashing forth from the wolf-fur hood in long tendrils, her eyes striving to pierce through the darkness to those stolid faces about her. She did not speak their language at all well, and I saw plainly that the hearing had been given her out of courtesy alone. They were our friends, were these Crees, because we were the friends of Radisson, and they would do all for us that friends might.
At length she finished and turned away. I stepped forward when the old chief had gravely risen and thanked her, and led her to the entrance. When I returned, the same old man rose and addressed me.
"Our brother Brave Eyes has heard the words of the Yellow Lily. They were like the dew upon the trees at dawn—sparkling and refreshing, but not fit to quench the thirst of the warriors. There is much that we do not understand, and we hope that Brave Eyes will set our minds at rest."
I waited a space, knowing that this would add dignity to my words. Even as I rose to my feet, a noise of dogs came from without, the flap of the door was pushed aside and The Keeper, The Arrow and Radisson entered and flitted to their seats in the Council. This seemed like a good omen to me, and I took heart again.
Now I appealed to the warriors direct, strove to wake them to consciousness of what my message meant, applied all that I said to their life and daily acts. As I went on, the words flowed almost of themselves, and I, who had ever been a clumsy, gawky lout, felt with a thrill that I was commanding these men. Yet it was not I, as none knew better. It was a Something that spoke in and through me, until in the end I felt a great fear of what that Something might be. None the less, I said what I had to say, and so seated myself again, the sweat standing out on my brow.
For a long, long time there was no sound within the lodge. Then I saw The Keeper rise to his feet and walk out beside the fire, standing a moment like a dark statue.