Again he was the bending, swaying, sinuous hypnotist. The glittering talisman upon his finger shot its light into the eyes of the two chiefs. Like charmed birds they fluttered and tried to free themselves from its spell. Their frantic efforts were vain. Then they became stiff—motionless, seeing nothing but the magic ring, hearing nothing but the Prophet’s voice. “Come!” he cried. In straight lines the two chiefs advanced. Bradford paled slightly. La Violette turned aside her face. Ross Douglas had his eyes fastened upon the glittering jewel. Slowly he began to move forward. Many others were coming under the hypnotic influence—were approaching Tenskwatawa. The young American shook himself, dropped his eyes to earth—and retreated to a safe distance. “Stop!” Like automatons the chiefs obeyed. “You see nothing—you are blind!” Tenskwatawa’s voice rang out clear and cold. Scores of the savages clapped their hands to their eyes and groaned aloud. Stone Eater and White Loon uttered piercing wails. “You are helpless—you drop to the ground—you sleep!” Down they fell like tenpins—the two chiefs at the Prophet’s feet. “Behold the work of the Great Spirit!” he shouted triumphantly. “Now who doubts Tenskwatawa’s power?” A full minute he waited for a reply. Awe—consternation—were written upon the faces of those who had not come under his influence. At last he clapped his hands and cried shrilly: “Awake—arise! Live and see!” Those upon the ground tumbled over one another, in their efforts to get upon their feet. Rubbing their eyes, they stared stupidly around. Then, in a shame-faced manner, they silently slunk away from the presence of the red hypnotist, who, dropping his voice to a sing-song monotone, continued: “Yes, my children, all will be well. Your chief, the great and powerful Tecumseh, has spoken words of truth and wisdom. Do not despair; be steadfast to our cause. The Great Spirit is with us—and all will be well. He has promised. In a few days, at most, we will go to the Mississinewa. Our white brothers across the lakes and beyond the big water will send us supplies. Also, we will make our enemy—the Seventeen Fires—furnish us with salt and ammunition. All will be well. The Great Spirit, through his prophet, has spoken.” Tenskwatawa rejoined Tecumseh within the hut; La Violette returned to her own cabin. The Indians cheered and capered about in an ecstasy of delight. This lasted for several minutes. Then they quietly dispersed and commenced the preparation of their dinners. All thought of rebelling against the rule of the self-elected chief and self-appointed prophet was at an end. The kingly presence and sturdy eloquence of the one, coupled with the serpentine grace and mesmeric power of the other, had the desired effect upon the minds of the ignorant and superstitious redmen. The threatened revolt was at an end. “Well, what do you think of Tecumseh?” remarked Bradford, as he approached the spot where Douglas was standing.