Dropping his chin upon his breast, the young man walked toward camp, the bloodhound trotting at his heels. The intelligent animal did not so much as cast a look behind him. Shouldering their guns, the three warriors brought up the rear. On reaching the center of the camp, Douglas perceived the savages flocking toward the Prophet’s cabin. He followed them; and in front of the door saw Tecumseh and his companions. The great chief was addressing the multitude: “My warriors and people, I returned from the land of sunshine and flowers, to find you defeated and scattered. In my anger, I heaped censure and abuse upon one who was not to blame. I lost control of myself—I bow my head in shame as I acknowledge it. Tenskwatawa has done well; no one could have done better. _I_ could not have done better. He is your prophet. You know his power—you trust him wisely. We have met with temporary defeat, but final success shall be ours.”—Lusty whoops and cheers.—“The tribes of the north and west are steadfast; the tribes of the south have promised to join us. The Seventeen Fires shall feel our might. Our white brothers across the big water will still aid us. We shall regain the land that is ours; we shall repossess the graves of our fathers. In a few days we shall remove to the villages of the Miamis, upon the Mississinewa. There we will bide our time—await our opportunity. It will not be long in coming. Hundreds of braves will join us. Their number will be greater than the leaves of the forest. The Seventeen Fires will tremble at the tread of the brave redmen and their English friends. Scar Face”—and he laid his hand upon Bradford’s shoulder—“is your friend. He has advised and helped us in the past; he will continue to do so. He will see that our brothers across the big water send us plenty of arms, ammunition, blankets, and food.”—Prolonged cheering and yells of delight.—“I have done. Tenskwatawa, my brother, whom I love and honor”—he affectionately placed his arm around the Prophet’s neck—“has something to tell you that you will be glad to hear. Let him speak.” The grave and dignified chief waved his hand and, drawing his blanket around him, re-entered the hut. The assemblage went wild. Warriors shouted, danced, and yelled; squaws shrieked and children screamed. Those who had been foremost in the contemplated revolt lent their voices to the mad uproar. Such was the magnetic power of the great Tecumseh! Now the Prophet stepped forward and raised his right hand, to command silence. As he did so, the magic circlet upon his finger caught the rays of the sun. A hush fell upon his audience, broken only by the breezy whisper,—“The Sign of the Prophet! The Sign of the Prophet!”—Then all was profound silence. Tenskwatawa swayed gracefully—rhythmically—to and fro, as he began: