“Did _I_ not accomplish something?” she cried disdainfully. “And are you not stronger than I?” “Stronger, yes,” Bradford replied calmly. “In your weakness lies your strength. Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa grant you privileges they would accord to no other. You can safely do and say things for which another would be sentenced to death!” “Bah! You lack courage—you fear death!” she retorted scornfully. “You are afraid of the great Shawnee chief and his brother, the Prophet. Yet you are the agent of the English—sent among the tribes to counsel and guide them. Do you think Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa have strengthened their influence over their people, by quarreling before them—by making a spectacle of themselves?” Bradford silently shook his head. Douglas looked with wonder and awe upon the frail, beauteous being before him. Her face was alight with animation; her form quivering with restrained feeling. Ross had seen the influence she exerted over the two crafty Shawnees. A sudden realization of wherein lay the real strength of the Indian confederacy flashed upon his mind; and he started and changed color. La Violette proceeded: “Hiram Bradford, you are the agent of the British. You are here to look after their interests. Are you fulfilling your mission when you allow the two great organizers of the confederacy madly to tear down all they have built? Look! Look at the braves of the different tribes talking among themselves. Do you not know what it means? Winnemac is jealous of Tenskwatawa; Stone Eater covets Tecumseh’s power and place; White Loon is ripe for revolt. The warriors are defeated, dispirited. They stand ready to join in open rebellion and follow a new leader—a new prophet. The edifice that Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa have built is tottering to its fall. The open quarrel between the two has further weakened its crumbling foundation. When Tecumseh arrived—but a few minutes ago—the braves greeted him with shouts of joy. Now all are sullen and silent. Listen! Some are whispering that Tecumseh is in the right; others are saying that Tenskwatawa cannot be in the wrong. But by far the greater number are declaring for a new leader—and a new prophet. Are you blind and deaf, Scar Face? Have not the English made common cause with the Indians? Tecumseh’s overthrow—Tenskwatawa’s downfall—mean ruin to the plans and projects of your people. Rouse yourself! There is work for you to do. All may yet be well; but the breach between Tecumseh and the Prophet must be closed. Will you come with me and help to do it?” “Yes,” Bradford answered meekly, an expression of great perplexity upon his scarred visage. “But what can I do?” “Come. I will show you.” Taking him by the hand, she led him into the Prophet’s hut. Like one in a trance, Douglas stood staring at the closed door. He was dazed—thunderstruck.