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The Indian looked from one to the other of us in the growing darkness, and made a gesture of contempt. "The real Great White Father wears a red coat, and is friend to the Pottawattomie," he said with dignity. "He no lie, no shut Indian out of Fort, no steal furs, no throw rum in river. Who this man, White Chief? He no soldier, he long-knife."
But the old man, who was now to die in glory, had spent a week in Judge Russell's house in Boston hiding from a deputy sheriff in whose hands was a warrant for plain murder one of the foulest murders in the records of crime. The judge was a student of character, as well as Abolitionist. He asked Brown for his last confidential statement as to these crimes on the Pottawattomie.
He had just turned to leave the room when a messenger handed Sumner a telegram. Stuart paused to hear the message. "Bad news, Lieutenant." "What, sir?" "An attack has been made on the Southern settlement on the Pottawattomie." "A drunken fight " "No. Wilkinson, the member of the Legislature from Miami County, was taken from his house in the night and murdered."
As the full rim of the sun crept over the eastern hills and its first rays quivered on the surface of the water, the huntsmen knelt by the bank of the Pottawattomie and washed the stains from their swords, hands and clothes. Breakfast finished, the leader divided among his headsmen the goods stolen from his victims and called his men to Sunday prayers.
He had never stopped to analyze these faiths. He believed in them as he believed in God. They were things not to be questioned. Doyle had not hesitated to express his opinions in Kansas as in Virginia. The few Southern settlers on the Pottawattomie Creek were sympathetic and no trouble had come. But the keen ears of the woman had caught ominous rumors on the plains.
I visited the Pottawattomie villages and then returned to Rock river. Soon after which our friends returned from their visit to the Great Father and reported what had been said and done. Their Great Father told them that in the event of a war taking place with England, not to interfere on either side, but remain neutral.
Brown had not yet uttered a word. He knew that the work on the bank of the Pottawattomie was done. The attitude of his swordsmen was sufficient. He asked but one question. "You threw him into the water?" "Yes." "Good." He closed his silver watch with a snap. "It's nearly four o'clock. We have no more time for work to-night. Back to camp." The men turned to repeat his orders. "Wait!"
It has no reference to myself or people, but to my friend Gomo, the Pottawattomie chief. He came to Rock river to pay me a visit, and during his stay he related to me the following story: "The war chief at Peoria is a very good man. He always speaks the truth and treats our people well.
As the sun was setting behind the Western horizon in a glow of orange and purple glory the strange expedition drove down to the edge of the timber between two deep ravines and camped a mile above Dutch Henry's Crossing of the Pottawattomie. The scene was one of serene beauty. The month of May Saturday, the twenty-third. Nature was smiling in the joy of her happiest hour.
In the midst of his disappointing canvas for funds he received a letter from his son, Jason, that a Deputy United States Marshal had passed through Cleveland on the way East with a warrant for his arrest for the Pottawattomie murders.
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