We are losing our great men. Into the earth They are borne; also our warriors; Also our women, and our grandchildren as well; So that in the midst of blood We are sitting. Now therefore, we say, Unite, wash the blood stains from our seat, So that we may be for a time strong and overruling. The chant died away. The priest disappeared. The chieftain whom Jack had guessed was Tecumseh arose and strode forward till he stood close above the embers of the dying fire. Round about the circle his fierce eyes swept; for an instant they rested on Jack’s face, lighting up, perhaps with recognition; then they swept on till they met those of the British general. “We meet here between the camps of the redcoats and the red men,” he said. “We meet to talk of what has been and of what is to be. Many moons ago the great white king across the sea sent word to us to lift the hatchet and to strike the Americans. He sent us word that he would never desert us; that he would give us back our ancient lands; that he would not make peace and abandon us to the vengeance of the Seventeen Fires. We dug up the hatchet. We fought long and hard. Again and again we won for the great king victories that without us would have been defeats. In every struggle we bore the sweat of the fight. When the Long Knives came to Fort Malden we wished to strike them and send them howling back. But the white chief said no, and we obeyed. Again and again he forced us to retreat, always against our will. Now he wishes to retreat once more. I ask him if this is not true.” General Proctor did not rise. He looked sullen and careworn. “We must retreat,” he declared, irritably. “The Americans outnumber us. We can not stand against them here.” “And what of the red men?” Tecumseh’s tones grew chill. “Our villages have gone up in smoke. Our women and children hide in the forests. Winter is coming on quickly. We can not take to the waters like fish, nor live in the forests like wolves, nor hide in the mud of the swamps like snakes. Either we must meet the Long Knives and drive them back or make peace with them and save what is left to us. The white chief shall not retreat.” General Proctor shrugged his shoulders. “The white chief must retreat. Later----” “There will be no later. The white chief shall not live to retreat. Either he must fight the Americans or he must fight Tecumseh and his men. The scalps of the white chief and his soldiers are still upon their heads. Let him look to it that tomorrow they are not carried as an offering to the chief of the Seventeen Fires.”