The brave answered:

"My white brother has spoken well and he shall be my chief. I like not
this journey. I shall bid them to the feast. They will eat and sleep
like the gray wolf for they are hungry and their feet are sore."

The brave put his horn to his mouth and uttered a wild cry that rang in
the distant hills. Then arose a great whooping and kintecawing back in
the bush. The young Huron went out to meet the band. Returning soon,
he said to Solomon that his chief, the great Splitnose, would have
words with him.

Turning to John Irons, Solomon said: "He's an outlaw chief. We must
treat him like a king. I'll bring 'em in. You keep the meat
a-sizzlin'!"

The scout went with the brave to his chief and made a speech of
welcome, after which the wily old Splitnose, in his wonderful
head-dress, of buckskin and eagle feathers, and his band in war-paint,
followed Solomon to the feast. Silently they filed out of the bush and
sat on the grass around the fire. There were no captives among
them--none at least of the white skin.

Solomon did not betray his disappointment. Not a word was spoken. He
and John Irons and his son began removing the spits from the fire and
putting more meat upon them and cutting the cooked roasts into large
pieces and passing it on a big earthen platter. The Indians eagerly
seized the hot meat and began to devour it. While waiting to be
served, some of the young braves danced at the fire's edge with short,