“Brothers!” again spoke the chief: “it is for this I would stay your judgment. My son is not in the camp; he went back upon the trail, and has not returned. I know not his purpose. My heart is in doubt—but not in fear Wakono is a strong warrior, and can take care of himself. He will not be long absent; he must soon return. For this I ask you to delay the judgment.”
A murmur of disapprobation followed this avowal. The allies of the renegade evidently mustered stronger than the friends of the young chief.
Hissoo-royo once more addressed the council.
“What trifling would this be, warriors of the Hietan? Two suns have gone down, and this question is not decided! I ask only justice. By our laws, the judgment cannot stand over. The captives must belong to some one. I claim them as mine, and I offer witnesses to prove my right. Wakono has no claim, else why is he not here to avow it? He has no proofs beyond his own word; he is ashamed to stand before you without proof—that is why he is now absent from the camp!”
“Wakono is not absent,” cried a voice from among the bystanders; “he is in the camp!”
This announcement produced a sensation, and I could perceive that the old chief partook equally with the others of the surprise created.
“Who says Wakono is in the camp?” inquired he in a loud voice.
An Indian stepped forth from the crowd of spectators. I recognised the man, whom I had met crossing from the horse-guard.
“Wakono is in the camp,” repeated he, as he paused outside the circle. “I saw the young chief; I spoke with him.”
“When?”