Then they uttered the long whoop of the Shawnees, and it was answered from the Miami village; but Big Fox, Brown Bear, and The Bat, assured of a welcome, never stopped, keeping straight on for the village.
Squaws and children clustered around them, and openly spoke their admiration of the three stalwart, splendidly proportioned warriors who had come from the friendly tribe; but Big Fox, Brown Bear, and The Bat, in accordance with the Indian nature, took no notice.

It was only warriors and chiefs to whom they would condescend to speak, and they were silent and expressionless until the right moment should come.

They passed straight through the swarm of old men, women, children, and dogs, toward the center of the village, where a long, low cabin of poles stood.

An ancient and reverend figure stood in the doorway to meet them.

It was that of Gray Beaver, head chief of the Miamis, an old, old man, gray with years and wise like the beaver, from which he took his name.
"My Shawnee brethren are welcome to the Council House," he said.