She was led away to the hornbeam, and received the lashes in perfect silence, as though she had been an image. “You got paid well,” said Tommy, as she was led by him after the chastisement. “Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye! Listen to the voice of the Wind!” said Old Waban to the drovers. “Go, take your cattle and drive them away, and never do you come again to the honest Indian towns. If you come, you shall go to the hornbeam-tree, too. Go!” He lifted his brown arm and pointed to the north. He stood like a statue. The drovers did not reply; they knew his right to order them away from the towns. The cattle were grazing in the meadowy pastures under the hills, among the tall swamp-grass and spearmint beds and fir-trees. The drovers hurried them away. There was something grand in the old Indian as he stood there with lifted arm, the very picture of Justice and Truth. Here was a forest prophet who, under the Christian teaching of Eliot, had put the nature of the savage animal, to which he had been born, under his will, and was governed by his faith in God and moral sense. He was called “The New Chief” because he had developed a new nature and become a new man. Odd his decisions in court often were, but there was moral sense in them, and he believed that when Waban the Wind spoke, he uttered the will of the Higher Power. The people watched the drovers as they cracked their whips and disappeared among the blazed trees of the oaklands. Waban at length broke the silence. “Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye! for the last time. Listen to the voice of the Wind. What shall be done with Thomas Trembly?” “Done?” said Tommy, starting; “done with me? I haven’t done nothing. I’m white; you can’t touch me. I’m only a witness.” “Ugh!” said Old Waban. “I ought to be paid for my tinker’s tools,” said Tommy. “Ugh!” said Old Waban, “you lost them there.” “Yes, that was the very place where I lost them; and I’ll lose a week’s time beside.” “And that because you were there?” “Yes; and by good rights I ought to be paid the cost of my tools, and the money I lost at the inn after being so shamefully used there,” said Tommy. “Ugh! Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye! Listen to the Wind. What shall be done with Thomas Trembly, the tinker?” “Give him the ordinary,” said a white man. “Fine the Pendergasts by giving the tinker the ordinary.” The chief again lifted his hand. “Take him,” said Waban, “to the hornbeam-tree, and give him as many sound lashes as you gave the squaw.” “What! You can’t! I am a _white_ man!” “But the white brother here,” said Waban, turning to Justice Mayhew, “approves my sentence. Take him to the hornbeam.” “What for? what for?” screamed the tinker. “What for?” said Waban. “What for? For being found in bad company. You shouldn’t have been there!”