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Band after band the tribes gathered, and when the sun went down the war-chief's obsequies took place. It was a strange funeral that they gave Multnomah, yet it was in keeping with the dark, grand life he had lived. A large canoe was filled with pitch and with pine-knots, the most inflammable materials an Oregon forest could furnish.
Cecil realized that on the iron fibre of the war-chief's nature his pleading made no impression whatever, and his heart sank within him. Again he tried to speak of the ways of peace, but the chief checked him impatiently. "That is talk for squaws and old men. Multnomah does not understand it. Talk like a man, if you wish him to listen.
At first she had been stunned by the terrible shock, and she could realize only that Cecil was dead. Now it came to her, dimly at first, then like a flash of fire, that Snoqualmie had slain him. All her spirit leaped up in uncontrollable hatred. For once, she was the war-chief's daughter.
Judge, therefore, O Sagamore, judge, you Yellow Moth, and you Oneidas Grey-Feather, with your war-chief's feather and your Sachem's ensign, Tahoontowhee, chieftain to be judge, all of you, where the real glory lies whether behind us in the rifle smoke or before us in the red glare of Amochol's accursed altar!" They had been listening to every word as I walked beside them.
That was the way he put it to Captain Thomas Jonathan Jeffords, to whom he also confessed the weakness which had overcome him in the case of the tortured Mexican. And the knowledge of this side of Cochise's character helped Captain Jeffords to pave the way for the wind-up of the war-chief's maraudings. That knowledge came after a long strange intimacy which began in a remarkable manner.
The rebellious chiefs interchanged meaning glances; the throng of malcontents outside the grove pressed closer upon the ring of Willamette warriors, who were still standing or squatting idly around it. More than one weapon could be seen among them in defiance of the war-chief's prohibition; and the presage of a terrible storm darkened on those grim, wild faces.
More than one sachem felt the inspiration of better, purer thoughts than he had ever known before when the "war-chief's woman" spoke in council. Strange gatherings were those: blood-stained chiefs and savage warriors listening all intent to the sweetest of Indian tongues spoken in modulations that were music; the wild heart of the empire stirred by the perfumed breath of a woman!
And with his ostentation was mixed a secret pride and tenderness that his dead wife had indirectly given him this wealth. The war-chief's woman had brought him these treasures out of the sea; and now that he had given away his all, even to the bare poles of his lodge, she filled it with fine things and made him rich again, she who had been sleeping for years in the death-hut on mimaluse island.
No one had heard the few half-whispered words that passed between them but those who stood nearest noticed the deadly pallor that came over her face while Snoqualmie was speaking. Multnomah saw it, and Snoqualmie caught from him a glance that chilled even his haughty nature a glance that said, "Beware; she is the war-chief's daughter."
At length, one summer evening a few weeks after the burial of Wallulah, there burst forth from the war-chief's lodge that peculiar wail which was lifted only for the death of one of the royal blood. No need to ask who it was, for only one remained of the ancient line that had so long ruled the Willamettes; and for him, the last of his race, was the wail lifted.
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