All eyes were centered upon the Prophet, during this heathenish specimen of his sorcery, and around the lips of Tecumseh played a smile of contempt. In the great Shawnee’s mind there always existed a disbelief in sorcery, and at times he was outspoken against the black arts his brother practiced. But, in a convocation of his chiefs and warriors, he never dared to declaim against Laulewasikaw. After several efforts--persistent ones they seemed to all save the prisoners--to fire the last and stubborn stick, the Prophet rose to his feet. “The great Prophet of the Manitou will speak the doom of the pale lips, and their brother, the red traitor. The Manitou speaks through Laulewasikaw: ‘_The skin must be torn from their bodies, when the Manitou’s lights appear, and then they must burn!_’” This terrible doom sent a thrill to every heart beneath the roof of the council-house, and drew a shriek from Eudora’s bloodless lips. “My God!” cried Fairfax with pallid cheeks--for well might that sentence, which even Tecumseh could not affect, drive the color from the bravest face. “Flayed alive, and then burned!” All knew that such a doom had resulted from Laulewasikaw’s brief conversation with the renegade. Tecumseh made an effort to throw it aside. He argued eloquently against its brutality, but all to no effect. He reminded his braves that since he became a chief no prisoner had died at the stake, and to sustain his honour, he hoped that their votes would sustain him. Briefly, sneeringly, and bitterly Laulewasikaw replied: “Dared the Shawnees disobey the commands of the Great Spirit? If so, let them abide the consequences, which would prove swift and terrible.” Seeing himself defeated, Tecumseh turned his back upon his brother, and commanded the voting to proceed. The sole ballot, a great club, upon which were carved many devices intelligible only to the savage mind, was handed to the nearest warrior. Around the circle it swiftly passed. Those who decided for death by crawling the gantlet, struck the earth once with the club; those who decided for the dreadful doom pronounced by the sorcerer, bestowed two blows upon _terra-firma_. Our friends held their breath as the club went round the living, doomful circle, and ere it returned to him who first handed it, they read the decision. Nearly twenty braves had the manhood to sustain Tecumseh’s honor; but the others, slaves to the prophet’s cunning, decided the vote. _Flayed alive and then burned!_ The result was hailed with gleeful shouts by the concourse of squaws assembled beyond the circle of warriors. “To the strong lodge with the prisoners!” commanded Tecumseh, vainly trying to bridle his rage. “Great Spirit, know that Tecumseh does not sanction the work of Watchemenetoc.” Among the braves who sprung forward to obey his command was the renegade, who did not attempt to conceal his triumph.