“Does my father ask?  He has dogs of spies among the settlers of the pale flag, but the tomahawk of the red skins will find them out, and they shall perish even as the Saganaw themselves.  Two nights ago, when the warriors of the Ottawas were returning from their scout upon the common, they heard the voice of Onondato, the great wolf-dog of the friend of the Ottawa chief.  The voice came from the bridge where the Saganaw killed his young warrior, and it called upon the red skins for assistance.  My young men gave their war cry, and ran like wild deer to destroy the enemies of their chief; but when they came, the spies had fled, and the voice of Onondato was low and weak as that of a new fawn; and when the warriors came to the other end of the bridge, they found the pale chief lying across the road and covered over with blood.  They thought he was dead, and their cry was terrible; for the pale warrior is a great chief, and the Ottawas love him; but when they looked again, they saw that the blood was the blood of Onondato, whose throat the spies of the Saganaw had cut, that he might not hunt them and give them to the tomahawk of the red skins.”

Frequent glances, expressive of their deep interest in the announcement of this intelligence, passed between the governor and his officers.  It was clear the party who had encountered the terrible warrior of the Fleur de lis were not spies (for none were employed by the garrison), but their adventurous companions who had so recently quitted them.  This was put beyond all doubt by the night, the hour, and the not less important feet of the locality; for it was from the bridge described by the Indian, near which the Canadian had stated his canoe to be chained, they were to embark on their perilous and uncertain enterprise.  The question of their own escape from danger in this unlooked for collision with so powerful and ferocious an enemy, and of the fidelity of the Canadian, still remained involved in doubt, which it might be imprudent, if not dangerous, to seek to have resolved by any direct remark on the subject to the keen and observant warrior.  The governor removed this difficulty by artfully observing,—­

“The great chief of the Ottawas has said they were the spies of the Saganaw who killed the pale warrior.  His young men has found them, then; or how could he know they were spies?”

“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.”