'No, nor yet was it what you might call swearing. He - he blasted 'em with his natural speech. He asked them half-a-dozen times over whether the United States had enough armed ships for any shape or sort of war with any one. He asked 'em, if they thought she had those ships, to give him those ships, and they looked on the ground, as if they expected to find 'em there. He put it to 'em whether, setting ships aside, their country - I reckon he gave 'em good reasons - whether the United States was ready or able to face a new big war; she having but so few years back wound up one against England, and being all holds full of her own troubles. As I said, the strong way he laid it all before 'em blasted 'em, and when he'd done it was like a still in the woods after a storm. A little man - but they all looked little - pipes up like a young rook in a blowed-down nest, "Nevertheless, General, it seems you will be compelled to fight England." Quick Big Hand wheeled on him, "And is there anything in my past which makes you think I am averse to fighting Great Britain?"
'Everybody laughed except him. "Oh, General, you mistake us entirely!" they says. "I trust so," he says. "But I know my duty. We must have peace with England."
'"At any price?" says the man with the rook's voice.
'"At any price," says he, word by word. "Our ships will be searched - our citizens will be pressed, but -"
'"Then what about the Declaration of Independence?" says one.
'"Deal with facts, not fancies," says Big Hand. "The United States are in no position to fight England."
'"But think of public opinion," another one starts up. "The feeling in Philadelphia alone is at fever heat."
'He held up one of his big hands. "Gentlemen," he says - slow he spoke, but his voice carried far - "I have to think of our country. Let me assure you that the treaty with Great Britain will be made though every city in the Union burn me in effigy."
'"At any price?" the actor-like chap keeps on croaking.
'"The treaty must be made on Great Britain's own terms.
What else can I do?"
'He turns his back on 'em and they looked at each other and slinked off to the horses, leaving him alone: and then I saw he was an old man. Then Red Jacket and Cornplanter rode down the clearing from the far end as though they had just chanced along.
Back went Big Hand's shoulders, up went his head, and he stepped forward one single pace with a great deep Hough! so pleased he was. That was a statelified meeting to behold - three big men, and two of 'em looking like jewelled images among the spattle of gay-coloured leaves. I saw my chiefs' war-bonnets sinking together, down and down. Then they made the sign which no Indian makes outside of the Medicine Lodges - a sweep of the right hand just clear of the dust and an inbend of the left knee at the same time, and those proud eagle feathers almost touched his boot-top.'
'What did it mean?' said Dan.
'Mean!' Pharaoh cried. 'Why it's what you - what we - it's the Sachems' way of sprinkling the sacred corn-meal in front of - oh! it's a piece of Indian compliment really, and it signifies that you are a very big chief.
'Big Hand looked down on 'em. First he says quite softly, "My brothers know it is not easy to be a chief." Then his voice grew.
"My children," says he, "what is in your minds?"
'Says Cornplanter, "We came to ask whether there will be war with King George's men, but we have heard what our Father has said to his chiefs. We will carry away that talk in our hearts to tell to our people."
'"No," says Big Hand. "Leave all that talk behind - it was between white men only - but take this message from me to your people - 'There will be no war.'"
'His gentlemen were waiting, so they didn't delay him-, only Cornplanter says, using his old side-name, "Big Hand, did you see us among the timber just now?"
'"Surely," says he. "You taught me to look behind trees when we were both young." And with that he cantered off.
'Neither of my chiefs spoke till we were back on our ponies again and a half-hour along the home-trail. Then Cornplanter says to Red Jacket, "We will have the Corn-dance this year. There will be no war." And that was all there was to it.'
Pharaoh stood up as though he had finished.
'Yes,' said Puck, rising too. 'And what came out of it in the long run?'
'Let me get at my story my own way,'was the answer. 'Look! it's later than I thought. That Shoreham smack's thinking of her supper.'
The children looked across the darkening Channel. A smack had hoisted a lantern and slowly moved west where Brighton pier lights ran out in a twinkling line. When they turned round The Gap was empty behind them.
'I expect they've packed our trunks by now,' said Dan. 'This time tomorrow we'll be home.'
