The captain kissed his wife, said a word or two of encouragement, and pointed to the Indian.

“Nick!” exclaimed all three of the females, in a breath.  Though the tones of their voices denoted very different sensations, at the unexpected appearance of their old acquaintance.  Mrs. Willoughby’s exclamation was not without pleasure, for she thought the man her friend.  Beulah’s was filled with alarm, little Evert and savage massacres suddenly crossing the sensitive mind of the young mother; while Maud’s tone had much of the stern resolution that she had summoned to sustain her in a moment of such fearful trial.

“Yes, Nick—­Sassy Nick,” repeated the Indian, in his guttural voice—­“Ole friend—­you no glad see him?”

“That will depend on your errand,” interposed the captain.  “Are you one of the party that is now lying at the mill?—­but, stop; how did you get within the palisades?  First answer me that.”

“Come in.  Tree no good to stop Injin.  Can’t do it wid branches, how do it widout?  Want plenty of musket and plenty of soldier to do dat.  Dis no garrison, cap’in, to make Nick afeard.  Always tell him too much hole to be tight.”

“This is not answering my question, fellow.  By what means did you pass the palisades?”

“What means?—­Injin means, sartain.  Came like cat, jump like deer, slide like snake.  Nick great Tuscarora chief; know well how warrior march, when he dig up hatchet.”

“And Nick has been a great hanger-on of garrisons, and should know the use that I can make of his back.  You will remember, Tuscarora, that I have had you flogged, more than once, in my day.”

This was said menacingly, and with more warmth, perhaps, than was prudent.  It caused the listeners to start, as if a sudden and new danger rose before their eyes, and the anxious looks he encountered warned the captain that he was probably going too far.  As for Nick, himself, the gathering thunder-cloud is not darker than his visage became at the words he heard; it seemed by the moral writhing of his spirit as if every disgracing blow he had received was at that instant torturing his flesh anew, blended with the keenest feelings of ignominy.  Captain Willoughby was startled at the effect he had produced; but it was too late to change his course; and he remained in dignified quiet, awaiting the workings of the Tuscarora’s mind.

It was more than a minute ere Nick made any reply.  Gradually, but very slowly, the expression of his visage changed.  It finally became as stoical in expression as severe training could render the human countenance, and as unmoved as marble.  Then he found the language he wanted.

“Listen,” said the Indian, sternly.  “Cap’in ole man.  Got a head like snow on rock.  He bold soldier; but he no got wisdom enough for gray hair.  Why he put he hand rough, on place where whip strike?  Wise man nebber do aat.  Last winter he cold; fire wanted to make him warm.  Much ice, much storm, much snow.  World seem bad—­fit only for bear, and snake, dat hide in rock.  Well; winter gone away; ice gone away; snow gone away; storm gone away.  Summer come, in his place.  Ebbery t’ing good—­ebbery t’ing pleasant.  Why t’ink of winter, when summer come, and drive him away wid pleasant sky?”