He was a large, sinewy man, his face rendered hideous by streaks of yellow and red, wearing a high crown of eagle feathers, with a scalp of long light-colored hair, still bloody, dangling at his belt. For a moment he and Captain Wells looked sternly into each other's eyes without speaking. Then the savage broke silence. "Wau-mee-nuk great brave," he said, sullenly, in broken English, using Wells's Indian name, "but him big fool come here now. Why not stay with Big Turtle? He tell him Pottawattomie not want him here." "Big Turtle did tell me," was the quiet answer, "that the Pottawattomies had made bad medicine and were dancing the war-dance in their villages; but I have met Pottawattomies before, and am not afraid. They have been my friends, and I have done them no wrong." He looked intently at the disguised face before him, seeking to trace the features. "You are Topenebe," he said at last. "True," returned the chief, with proud gravity. "You serve me well once; for that I come now, and tell you go back,--there is trouble here." Wells's face darkened. "Have I ever been a coward," he asked indignantly, "that I should turn and run for a threat? Think you, Topenebe, that I fear to sing the death-song? I have lived in the woods, and gone forth with your war-parties; am I less a warrior, now that I fight with the people of my own race? Go take your warning to some squaw; we ride straight on to Dearborn, even though we have to fight our way." The Indian glanced, as Wells pointed, toward the Fort, and sneered. "All old women in there," he exclaimed derisively. "Say this to-day, and that to-morrow. They shut the gates now to keep Indian on outside. No trade, no rum, no powder,--just lies. But they no keep back our young men much longer." His face grew dark, and his eyes angry. "Why you bring them?" he asked hotly, designating our escort of Miamis, already shrinking from the taunts of the gathering braves. "They dog Indians, bad medicine; they run fast when Pottawattomie come." "Don't be so certain about that, Topenebe," retorted Wells, shortly. "But we cannot stop longer here; make way, that we may pass along, Jordan, push on with your advance through that rabble there." The Indian chief drew his horse back beside the trail, and we moved slowly forward, our Indian guides slightly in advance, and exhibiting in every action the disinclination they felt to proceed, and their constantly increasing fear of the wild horde that now resorted to every means in their power, short of actual violence, to retard their progress. As they closed in more closely around us, taunting the Miamis unmercifully, even shaking tomahawks in their faces, with fierce eyes full of hatred and murder, I drew back my horse until I ranged up beside Mademoiselle Antoinette, and thus we rode steadily onward through that frenzied, howling mass, the girl between De Croix and me, who thus protected her on either side.