This proposition appeared reasonable. It was adopted, and the crier once more summoned the young chief by name.
The voice, as all perceived, could have been heard to the farthest bounds of the camp, and far beyond.
An interval was allowed, during which there reigned perfect silence, every one bending his ears to listen.
There came no answer—no Wakono appeared to the summons.
“Now!” triumphantly exclaimed the renegade, “is it not as I have said? Warriors! I demand your judgment.”
There was no immediate reply. A long pause followed, during which no one spoke, either in the circle or among the spectators.
At length the oldest of the council rose, re-lit the calumet, and, after taken a whiff from the tube, handed it to the Indian seated on his left. This one, in like manner, passed it to the next, and he to the next, until the pipe had made the circuit of the fire, and was returned to the old warrior who had first smoked from it.
The latter now laid aside the pipe, and in a formal manner, but in a voice inaudible to the spectators, proposed the question.
The vote was taken in rotation, and was also delivered sotto voce. The judgment only was pronounced aloud.
The decision was singular, and somewhat unexpected. The jury had been moved by a strong leaning towards equity, and an amicable adjustment that might prove acceptable to all parties.