Alagwa bowed. “I understand, great chief,” she answered, breathlessly. “Therefore Tecumseh bade the chief Brito wait until he should return from a journey. He stationed the chief Wilwiloway to watch and protect you. For many moons he travelled. His moccasins trod the woods and the prairies. He visited the home of his friends’ people by the far south sea. Of them one is a young white chief, handsome and brave and skilful, called Te-pwe (he who speaks truth) by the Shawnees. His years are four or five more than Alagwa’s. Tecumseh saw him and gave him a belt of black and white and told him by what trail he should come to fetch you. The young chief took the belt and Tecumseh hoped to find him here when he came. But he has not come.” Alagwa’s breast was heaving. The suggestion that she was to be sent far south into the land of the Americans filled her with terror. She had been trained in the stoicism of the Indian and she knew that it was her part to obey in silence, accepting the words of the chief, but her white blood cried out in protest. The chief went on. “Tecumseh has done what he can to keep his promise to his friend. But now Tecumseh’s people call him and he must leave all else to serve them. Tonight he holds a great council and tomorrow he and those who follow him go north to join the redcoats and fight against the Seventeen Fires (seventeen states). But before he goes he must decide what to do with Alagwa. He can not take her north with him. He can not leave her here, for that would be to give her to the chief Brito whether he wished it or not and whether she wished it or not. Two things only can he do. He can give her into the hands of her father’s foe or he can send her south to meet the young white chief, who is on his way to fetch her. Which shall he do, little daughter?” Alagwa sat silent. Scarcely breathing, she strove desperately to think, to choose between the courses of action that Tecumseh had outlined, but the throbbing of her pulses made the task difficult. In her ears was the roaring of deep waters. Suddenly a flush of rage swept over her and she sprang to her feet. “I will not! I will not!” she panted. “Am I a dog that I should go begging to the doors of the Long Knives from the south. They are my people’s foes and mine. I will take nothing from them. Neither will I go north with the man whom my father hated. I can not stay here, the great chief says? Good! I will go, but I will go to fight his foes and mine. I am a woman and I can not travel the warpath. But surely there is some other way for me to help? Can not the great chief lay upon me some task? Is there not some service that I may render to him and to the people who took me in when I was a child and who have cared for me these many moons?” Imploringly the girl stretched out her hands.