Every judgment of the league in council had to be unanimous. They voted in sections, whereupon each section sent its representative into the higher council and no verdict was announced until its members were of one mind. The deliberations were proceeding toward a favorable judgment as Solomon thought, when Guy Johnson arrived from Johnson Castle with a train of pack bearers. A wild night of drunken revelry followed his arrival. Jack and Solomon were lodging at a log inn, kept by a Dutch trader, half a mile or so from the scene of the council. A little past midnight, the trader came up into the loft where they were sleeping on a heap of straw and awakened Solomon.
"Come down the ladder," said the Dutchman. "A young squaw has come out from the council. She will speak to you."
Solomon slipped on his trousers, coat and boots, and went below. The squaw was sitting on the floor against the wall. A blanket was drawn over the back of her head. Her handsome face had a familiar look.
"Put out the light," she whispered in English.
The candle was quickly snuffed and then:
"I am the Little White Birch," she said. "You and my beautiful young brave were good to me. You took me to the school and he kissed my cheek and spoke words like the song of the little brown bird of the forest. I have come here to warn you. Turn away from the great camp of the red man. Make your feet go fast. The young warriors are drunk. They will come here to slay you. I say go like the rabbit when he is scared. Before daylight, put half a sleep between you and them."
Solomon called Jack and in the darkness they quickly got ready to go. The Dutchman could give them only a loaf of bread, some salt and a slab of bacon. The squaw stood on the door-step watching while they were getting ready. Snow was falling.
"They are near," she whispered when the men came out. "I have heard them."
She held Jack's hand to her lips and said:
"Let me feel your face. I can not see it. I shall see it not again this side of the Happy Hunting-Grounds."