"One of our young men brought the news that in the Barren Places was a mighty moose, larger than any moose ever seen. He had followed the tracks, and had come to a bear, slain by the moose. There were three young men in the village who said they would hunt this moose. Our old men warned them, saying that the young man had been led to the bear in token that the moose wished us well. Perhaps he was a Mighty One. But the young men refused to listen and went forth with their dogs.
"My brothers, you have heard the tale of Spotted Lynx, Two Horns and Yellow Cloud. They hunted for many weeks. The Mighty One did not wish to harm them. But at last they found him feeding, and wounded him. My brothers, are any of those young men among you? Have you seen their faces in the lodges of their people? Have they returned to their fathers?"
A single half-suppressed groan broke from one of the old men. There was no doubt that the tale was true. I reflected that if three hunters, armed with bow and spear, had gone out against that terrible moose, there might well have been small chance of their returning safe. But The Crane did not pause long.
"We have heard how the hunters of the Chippewa nation have sought him, and have fled home like women to their people. Our fathers have told us how, when they were little children, the Great Spirit had whispered to them that the Crees should not seek to hunt the Mighty One, and should not seek to hunt in the hills of the Barren Places. It is in these hills that the Mighty One now dwells, and the Chippewas fear them also.
"Sometimes the Mighty One travels far. My brothers, you have heard how Brave Eyes met him. You have seen that he favored Brave Eyes and did not kill him, but sent him to be our brother. The heart of Brave Eyes is very strong. We know that it holds no fear. Now that he knows who the Mighty One is whose horns he felt, now that he knows it was our Great Spirit himself, Brave Eyes will not fear to say that he was wrong."
Uchichak drew his furs about him and resumed his seat. The eyes of the Council, one by one, were slowly turned on me. But not until I felt Radisson's hand relax on my arm did I rise to speak.
"My brothers," I said with some difficulty, "I speak in a strange tongue. I can find no words in it to say that I did not speak to you rightly before. The Crane has told me that the Spirits of the Dead who Dance are signs from your Great Spirit. How is it, then, that the same signs have come to me and my brother the White Eagle and to my sister the Yellow Lily, very far from here. How is it that this sign comes to my white brothers also?"
There was a little stir at this, and I heard the Keeper grunt in appreciation.
"Listen, my brothers. I have told you of the sign in the water, which the Great Spirit has sent to his white children, through his own Son. I wish you to remember this, and it may be that you will accept this sign. As to your Mighty One, he is not a Messenger sent by the Great Spirit; he is a messenger of the Evil Spirit."
I had looked for another stir at these words, but none came. Instead, there was silence—the silence of apprehension, of waiting.