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It was Wells who questioned first. "So those devils have let you go unharmed? What answer made the savages?" "They pledge us safe convoy around the head Of the lake." "They do? Who spoke the words of the pledge?" "Old Gomo himself, and it was ratified by each of the chiefs in turn." "They are lying dogs, all but one of them. What answered Black Partridge?"
"I came for this, Gomo," said Heald, speaking now rapidly, and with an evident determination to trust all in a sentence and have it over with, for it was clear the savages were in no mood for diplomatic evasion: "to ask your guidance and protection on our march eastward on the morrow.
Gomo moved forward with Indian dignity, and exchanged solemn greeting with the new-comer. "It makes the hearts of the Pottawattomies light to hear the words of Sau-ga-nash," he said gravely. Then he turned and waved his hand to his clustered warriors. "Release the Frenchman, and place him for safety in the council lodge. Pass the woman free. It is the will of our chiefs." The council lodge!
It was as if he appealed to stone. "Is this not so?" "The White Chief has spoken," was the cold reply. "His words are full of eloquence, but Gomo hears nothing that calls for answer. The White Chief says not why he has come and demanded council of the Pottawattomies." A low murmur, expressive of approval, swept down the observant line; but no man among them stirred a muscle.
The next day I took a party of hunters, killed several deer, and left them at the fort gate as I passed." Here Gomo ended his story. I could relate many similar ones that have come within my own knowledge and observation, but I dislike to look back and bring on sorrow afresh. I will resume my narrative. The great chief at St.
I have since given two homes and a rifle to his relatives, not to break the peace, to which they have agreed." I remained for some time at the village of Gomo, and went with him to the fort to pay a visit to the war chief. I spoke the Pottawattomie tongue well, and was taken for one of their people by him. He treated us friendly, and said he was very much displeased about the murder of' Washeown.
I then paid a visit to the Pottawattomie village on the Illinois river, and learned that Sanatuwa and Tatapuckey had been to St. Louis. Gomo told me that "peace had been made between his people and the Americans, and that seven of his band remained with the war chief to make the peace stronger." He then told me: "Washeown is dead!
One glance at that tall thin figure, the stern face, the long white hair, told me it was the great war-chief of the Pottawattomies, Gomo; and I sank back trembling from the reaction of that moment's strain. His words were calm, deliberate, commanding; but the angry roar with which they were greeted made me fear the horde he faced so resolutely was now beyond control.
Hamangkoe Boewoenoe Senopati Sahadin Panoto Gomo Kalif Patelah Kandjeng VII, Ruler of the World, Spike of the Universe, and Sultan of Djokjakarta, is an old, old man, yet his brisk walk and upright carriage betrayed no trace of the worries which might be expected to beset one who is burdened with the responsibility of supporting three thousand wives and concubines.
I confess these words chilled me, as I recalled their meaning; and Heald half rose to his feet as though he would protest, but not a stolid face among the warriors changed in expression. Gomo drew his robes more closely about his gaunt figure in simple but impressive dignity. "Doth Shaw-nee-aw-kee go east also with the white men?" he asked. "I have not of late conferred with the Silver-man.
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