Peter cunningly made no allusion to Margery, until just before he resumed his seat, though now deeply interested in her safety.  As for le Bourdon, so profound was the impression he had made that morning, that few of the chiefs were surprised at the exemption proposed in his favor.  The superstitious dread of witchcraft is very general among the American savages; and it certainly did seem to be hazardous to plot the death of a man, who had even the bees that were humming on all sides of them under his control.  He might at that very moment be acquainted with all that was passing; and several of the grim-looking and veteran warriors who sat in the circle, and who appeared to be men able and willing to encounter aught human, did not fail to remember the probability of a medicine-man’s knowing who were his friends, and who his enemies.

When Peter sat down, there was but one man in the circle of chiefs who was resolved to oppose his design of placing Boden and Margery without the pale of the condemned.  Several were undecided, scarce knowing what to think of so sudden and strange a proposition, but could not be said to have absolutely adhered to the original scheme of cutting off all.  The exception was Ungque.  This man—­a chief by a sort of sufferance, rather than as a right—­was deadly hostile to Peter’s influence, as has been said, and was inclined to oppose all his plans, though compelled by policy to be exceedingly cautious how he did it.  Here, however, was an excellent opportunity to strike a blow, and he was determined not to neglect it.  Still, so wily was this Indian, so much accustomed to put a restraint on his passions and wishes, that he did not immediately arise, with the impetuous ardor of frank impulses, to make his reply, but awaited his time.

An Indian is but a man, after all, and is liable to his weaknesses, notwithstanding the self-command he obtains by severe drilling.  Bough of the Oak was to supply a proof of this truth.  He had been so unexpectedly successful in his late attempt at eloquence, that it was not easy to keep him off his feet, now that another good occasion to exhibit his powers offered.  He was accordingly the next to speak.

“My brothers,” said Bough of the Oak, “I am named after a tree.  You all know that tree.  It is not good for bows or arrows; it is not good for canoes; it does not make the best fire, though it will burn, and is hot when well lighted.  There are many things for which the tree after which I am named is not good.  It is not good to eat.  It has no sap that Injins can drink, like the maple.  It does not make good brooms.  But it has branches like other trees, and they are tough.  Tough branches are good.  The boughs of the oak will not bend, like the boughs of the willow, or the boughs of the ash, or the boughs of the hickory.

“Brothers, I am a bough of the oak.  I do not like to bend.  When my mind is made up, I wish to keep it where it was first put.  My mind has been made up to take the scalps of all the pale-faces who are now in the Openings.  I do not want to change it.  My mind can break, but it can not bend.  It is tough.”