Around the village and bordering on the lake, almost the entire neighborhood was a low, boggy prairie. A man could scarcely walk across parts of it, even in the driest summer weather. And at this spring season--late April was the month--the place was well nigh impassable, except by a few devious footpaths. During the past few days, a great throng of Indians had come pouring into the vicinity of the fort. There were, altogether, some two or three thousand savages of different tribes, but mainly of the Pottawattomee nation. “The Injuns have summoned a grand council,” explained a soldier, “to talk over the matter of a certain treaty that the Great White Father at Washington wants ’em to sign.” All of the leading sachems of the region had come in, with the notable exception of Black Hawk, foremost chieftain of the Sacs, and there was much speculation as to the reason for his absence. The Pottawattomees were represented by such chiefs as Alexander Robinson, the son of a Scotch father and Indian mother, Sauguanauneebee (Sour Water), Shaubena, Chepoi (the Corpse), and various others of lesser note. Then, too, all of the principal traders of the region were on hand to deal with the Indians. Their tents and trading booths dotted the landscape, and helped to give the scene almost the festive appearance of a fair. Tom and Ben Gordon now left their lodging shanty and hurried upriver past the village. “There’s a big crowd of savages over that way,” pointed out Ben presently. “Must be the place,” was Tom’s reply. The big council, composed of all the leading chiefs of the principal tribes was already in session. Whirling Thunder, a Sac chief, and Shaubena, whose sons were involved, had turned the matter over to the solemn assemblage. The young Indian maiden, cause of the quarrel, was standing at one side with her father, the giant “Wampum,” a famous chief of the Chippeways, who had his village some three hundred miles to the north in the vast, somber “pineries.” Tom and Ben had hardly arrived, when a coppery warrior got to his feet and launched an oration that seemed to the attentive boys to be both stirring and forceful. He was a tall, strong savage, of handsome mien; he knew all the tricks of good oratory; his voice was deep and full-toned; and he accompanied his words with graceful and telling gestures. To the boys’ surprise, however, his eloquence seemed to carry little weight. His fellow savages appeared to have small regard for his utterances. Hardly a murmur arose from the stolid circle about him.