There was nothing for it but to obey, since Larue knew only too well that he had few friends among all that assemblage. Not one would dare lift a hand against the dusky idol of the Indian tribes, the silver-tongued and powerful sachem of the Pottawottomies.
He slunk away, and vanished beyond the outer circles; but that last frown which he bent on Pontiac told only too plainly what hatred and bitter venom was hidden in his black heart.
Nor did either of the watching and listening white boys imagine for a moment what a tremendous influence that very dramatic circumstance was fated to have upon their own fortunes. And still it was so.
The great council, held under the famous oak where many such had taken place in the years that were gone, broke up at last. The final speech had been delivered by Pontiac himself; and once more his wonderfully persuading voice seemed to be raised in pleading. The Iroquois chiefs had been divided, as near as Bob could make out, some being in favor of joining the tremendous chain of confederated tribes, while others clung to their well-known allegiance to the English.
Now the immense crowd had begun to melt away. By dozens and scores the Indians took themselves off, each tribe seeming to cling together. Pontiac himself, Bob noticed, seemed to accompany an old and wise-looking chief who, from his dress, he believed must be the famous Delaware sachem, Bald Eagle; and with them, too, was the Seneca chieftain.
In ten minutes not an Indian was to be seen below. The fire had burned down, and was slowly dying out. Sandy would have tried to make a move in order to at least change his position, only that his brother nudged him, and in this way warned the impatient one that they had not yet seen the end of the affair.
Figures were again moving under the sacred council oak tree. Once more did the seven strange figures of the allied medicine men appear, to again exhort the Great Spirit to listen to the appeals that had so recently been spoken. They danced around the dying fire, they chanted in unison, they waved their arms, and rattled hollow gourds that contained hard seeds, until the effect was most awe-inspiring.
Finally, as a fitting wind-up to these queer proceedings that seemed to partake of the savage nature of the Indian, each of them tossed a handful of powder in the embers of the fire. For the second time that red flame arose, to bathe the entire vicinity in its fierce glow, and to avoid which the watchers aloft had need to close their aching eyes.
When they opened them again the seven medicine men had vanished, gliding away as silently as ghosts. Only the dying fire lay below to tell them of the wonderful experience which they had just passed through, thanks to the sagacity and daring of their faithful guide, Blue Jacket.