I felt the wooing of his argument,
even as I had wooed others, and I listened silently and watched the
lightning's play.
But I dreaded the moment when his argument should leave theory and face
me in the concrete. The change came suddenly, as in music a tender
melody will merge abruptly into a summons to arms. He called me to
witness. The Iroquois were at the gates. They outnumbered the
Malhominis, but the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes were all
within a day's journey, and would come at my call. The time for the
alliance of which I had told them was at hand. My body was crippled
but my brain was whole. To-morrow he, the chief, at my bidding, and
with my watchword, would send runners through the tribes. Within the
week a giant force could be gathered and an attack made. The Iroquois
camp would be exterminated, and then I, at the head of the force, could
march where I willed. Never had the western tribes followed a white
man, but I had called their hearts from their bodies, and they would go.
But one thing I was to remember. He, Outchipouac, the chief, was my
brother in arms. He had rescued me, clothed me, furnished me the means
of war. My victories were his victories.
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