“Is there a warrior among the Saganaw who dares to show himself in the path of the red skins, unless he come in strength and surrounded by his thunder?” was the sneering demand.  “But my father is wrong, if he supposes the friend of the Ottawa is killed.  No,” he pursued fiercely, “the dogs of spies could not kill him; they were afraid to face so terrible a warrior.  They came behind him in the dark, and they struck him on the head like cowards and foxes as they were.  The warrior of the pale face, and the friend of the Ottawa chief, is sick, but not dead.  He lies without motion in his tent, and his voice cannot speak to his friend to tell him who were his enemies, that he may bring their scalps to hang up within his wigwam.  But the great chief will soon be well, and his arm will be stronger than ever to spill the blood of the Saganaw as he has done before.”

“The talk of the Ottawa chief is strange,” returned the governor, emphatically and with dignity.  “He says he conies to smoke the pipe of peace with the Saganaw, and yet he talks of spilling their blood as if it was water from the lake.  What does the Ottawa mean?”

“Ugh!” exclaimed the Indian, in his surprise.  “My father is right, but the Ottawa and the Saganaw have not yet smoked together.  When they have, the hatchet will be buried for ever.  Until then, they are still enemies.”

During this long and important colloquy of the leading parties, the strictest silence had been preserved by the remainder of the council.  The inferior chiefs had continued deliberately puffing the smoke from their curled lips, as they sat cross-legged on their mats, and nodding their heads at intervals in confirmation of the occasional appeal made by the rapid glance of the Ottawa, and uttering their guttural “Ugh!” whenever any observation of the parlant parties touched their feelings, or called forth their surprise.  The officers had been no less silent and attentive listeners, to a conversation on the issue of which hung so many dear and paramount interests.  A pause in the conference gave them an opportunity of commenting in a low tone on the communication made, in the strong excitement of his pride, by the Ottawa chief, in regard to the terrible warrior of the Fleur de lis; who, it was evident, swayed the councils of the Indians, and consequently exercised an influence over the ultimate destinies of the English, which it was impossible to contemplate without alarm.  It was evident to all, from whatsoever cause it might arise, this man cherished a rancour towards certain individuals in the fort, inducing an anxiety in its reduction scarcely equalled by that entertained on the part of the Indians themselves.  Beyond this, however, all was mystery and doubt; nor had any clue been given to enable them to arrive even at a well founded apprehension of the motives which had given birth to the vindictiveness of purpose, so universally ascribed to him even by the savages themselves.