his sense of the discovery by another of those ejaculatory “Ughs!” so expressive of surprise in an Indian, “at the right hand of my father I see a chief,” pointing to Captain Erskine, “who came with those of the Saganaw who first entered the country of the Detroit;—­ask that chief if what the Ottawa says is not true.  When the Saganaw said he came only to remove the warriors of the pale flag, that he might be friendly and trade with the red skins, the Ottawa received the belt of wampum he offered, and smoked the pipe of peace with him, and he made his men bring bags of parched corn to his warriors who wanted food, and he sent to all the nations on the lakes, and said to them, ’The Saganaw must pass unhurt to the strong hold on the Detroit.’  But for the Ottawa, not a Saganaw would have escaped; for the nations were thirsting for their blood, and the knives of the warriors were eager to open their scalps.  Ask the chief who sits at the right hand of my father,” he again energetically repeated, “if what the Ottawa says is not true.”

“What the Ottawa says is true,” rejoined the governor; “for the chief who sits on my right hand has often said that, but for the Ottawa, the small number of the warriors of the Saganaw must have been cut off; and his heart is big with kindness to the Ottawa for what he did.  But if the great chief meant to be friendly, why did he declare war after smoking the pipe of peace with the Saganaw?  Why did he destroy the wigwams of the settlers, and carry off the scalps even of their weak women and children?  All this has the Ottawa done; and yet he says that he wished to be friendly with my young men.  But the Saganaw is not a fool.  He knows the Ottawa chief had no will of his own.  On the right hand of the Ottawa sits the great chief of the Delawares, and on his left the great chief of the Shawanees.  They have long been the sworn enemies of the Saganaw; and they came from the rivers that run near the salt lake to stir up the red skins of the Detroit to war.  They whispered wicked words in the ear of the Ottawa chief, and he determined to take up the bloody hatchet.  This is a shame to a great warrior.  The Ottawa was a king over all the tribes in the country of the fresh lakes, and yet he weakly took council like a woman from another.”

“My father lies!” fiercely retorted the warrior, half springing to his feet, and involuntarily putting his hand upon his tomahawk.  “If the settlers of the Saganaw have fallen,” he resumed in a calmer tone, while he again sank upon his mat, “it is because they did not keep their faith with the red skins.  When they came weak, and were not yet secure in their strong holds, their tongues were smooth and full of soft words; but when they became strong under the protection of their thunder, they no longer treated the red skins as their friends, and they laughed at them for letting them come into their country.”  “But,” he pursued, elevating his voice, “the Ottawa is a great chief, and he will be respected.”  Then adverting in bitterness to the influence supposed to be exercised over him,—­“What my father has said is false.  The Shawanees and the Delawares are great nations; but the Ottawas are greater than any, and their chiefs are full of wisdom.  The Shawanees and the Delawares had no talk with the Ottawa chief to make him do what his own wisdom did not tell him.”