It was a masterpiece of dignity, subtility, and com
mand. The prophecy of Tohomish was evaded, the
fall of the Bridge wrested into an omen propitious to
the Willamettes; and at last his hearers found them
selves believing as he wished them to believe, without
knowing how or why, so strongly did the overmaster
ing personality of Multnomah penetrate and sway
their lesser natures. He particularly dwelt on the
idea that they were all knit together now and were as
one race. Yet through the smooth words ran a latent
threat, a covert warning of the result of any revolt
against his authority based on what plotting dreamers
might say of the fall of the Bridge, a half-expressed
menace, like the gleam of a sword half drawn from
the scabbard. And he closed by announcing that
ere another spring the young men of all the tribes
would go on the war-path against the Shoshones and
come back loaded with spoil. And so, kindling the
hatred of the chiefs against the common enemy,
Multnomah closed the great council.
In a little while the camp was all astir with prepa ration for departure. Lodges were being taken down, the mats that covered them rolled up and packed on the backs of horses; all was bustle and tumult. Troop after troop crossed the river and took the trail toward the upper Columbia.
But when the bands passed from under the personal influence of Multnomah, they talked of the ominous things that had just happened; they said to each other that the Great Spirit had forsaken the Wil lamettes, and that when they came into the valley again it would be to plunder and to slay. Multnomah had stayed the tide but for a moment. The fall of
