"Yes, father."
"There was neither pity nor mercy in the white man's heart for him. You made your vow to him. What was that vow, Waubeno?"
"To avenge his enemies—not our friends."
"Brothers, listen. The white men grow many, and we are few. In war we are helpless—only one weapon remains to us now. It is the thunderbolt—it is fire.
"Warriors, listen. The moon grows. Who of you will cross the river and ride once more into the Red Man's Paradise, and give the prairies to the flames? The torch is all that is left us now."
Every Indian raised his arm except Main-Pogue and Waubeno, and signified his desire to unite in the plan for the desolation of the prairies.
"Main-Pogue, will you carry your torch in the night of fire?"
"I have been saved by the hand of a white man, and I will not turn my hand against the white man. I could not do it if I were young. But I am old—my people are gone. Leave me to fall like the leaf."
"Son of Alknomook, what will you do?"
"I will follow your counsel for my father's sake, but I will spare my friends for the sake of the arm that was stretched out over the head of Main-Pogue."