“When you are taken into this nation,” Pahokuk continued, “you will find that our councils are designed to promote the welfare of all, without regard for the wishes of those who have more shirts and ponies than the rest of us. We are told by Shabonock that the country from which you come is governed by a number of men called a Congress; that this Congress is supposed to be wise and honest, and has the power of naming your leaders in war, but does not name those who are brave: only those who possess influential friends or a few extra beaver skins. He tells us, even, that your Congress would sacrifice young men by thousands—sacrifice even your entire nation—rather than act contrary to the wishes of those with wealth and in fluence.

“We have heard this Congress orders its armies to do things without providing the wherewithal to do them; sends soldiers into battle without shoes on their feet, powder for their muskets, or food to eat; places leaders from other countries over your own leaders, just as if we took a Winnebago, of whom none of us had ever heard, to lead us in battle; that it publicly declares Indians to be bad men, but privately hires Iroquois to help fight against the Great Father in England. We have been told that this is the way in which your Congress customarily acts, and that it is almost always wrong in its deliberations. If these things are true, then it will be a privilege and a relief for you to become members of the Sac nation; for the Sac people are sensible and honorable. They do not tolerate such imbecilities.”

Doc Means grunted. “Putting all his arrers right into the bull’s-eye, ain’t he?”

“Hush,” Verrieul said. “Look indifferent, and watch, now: the ceremony of taking us into the tribe is going to begin.”

Pahokuk made a signal. Two braves seized each of us by the arms, hustling us from the long house and into a sweat-lodge that stood outside. They removed our clothes, poured water on hot rocks until we nearly melted: then, howling and whooping, dragged us down the slope, and threw us into the cold, black river. On emerging, we were hurried to the long house, and at the door blankets were thrown around us. When we were brought back into the smoky interior, and placed on our backs on beaver robes, three shamans pulled the blankets from our chests and Pahokuk stood over us with a pointed stick, charred at the tip. With it he drew on our chests something supposed to be an eagle; and the shamans tattooed it upon us with murderous-looking instruments. When they were finished, we were decorated with red and blue birds that looked more like buzzards than eagles.