tribe had been
going from lodge to lodge, in order to stimulate the tempers of the warriors to
such a pass, as might leave but little room for mercy. To one, they spoke of a
son whose scalp was drying in the smoke of a Pawnee lodge. To another, they
enumerated his own scars, his disgraces and defeats. With a third, they dwelt on
his losses of skins and horses, and a fourth was reminded of vengeance, by a
significant question concerning some flagrant adventure in which he was known to
have been a sufferer.
    By these means the men had been so far excited as to have assembled, in the
manner already related, though it still remained a matter of doubt how far they
intended to carry their revenge. A variety of opinions prevailed on the policy
of executing their prisoners, and Mahtoree had suspended the discussions, in
order to ascertain how far the measure might propitiate, or retard his own
particular views. Hitherto, the consultations had merely been preliminary, with
a design that each chief might discover the number of supporters his particular
views would be likely to obtain when the important subject should come before a
more solemn council of the tribe. The moment for the latter had now arrived, and
the preparations were made with a dignity and solemnity suited to the momentous
interests of the occasion.
    With a refinement in cruelty that none but an Indian would have imagined,
the place selected for this grave deliberation was immediately about the post,
to which the most important of its subjects, was attached. Middleton and Paul
were brought, in their bonds, and laid at the feet of the Pawnee, and then the
men began to take their places according to their several claims to distinction.
As warrior after warrior approached, he seated himself in the wide circle, with
a mien as composed and thoughtful as if his mind were actually in a condition to
deal out justice, tempered as it should be, with the heavenly quality of mercy.
A place was reserved for three or four of the principal chiefs, and a few of the
oldest of the women, as withered, as age, exposure, hardships and lives of
savage passions could make them, thrust themselves into the foremost circle,
with a temerity to which they were impelled by their insatiable desire for
cruelty, and which nothing but their years and their long tried fidelity to the
nation would have excused.
    All but the chiefs already named were now in their places. These had delayed
their appearance, in the vain hope that their own unanimity might smooth the way
to that of their respective factions; for, notwithstanding the