of the mingled character of a laugh and a yell.  Startled at the cry, Major Blackwater, who was in front, turned to ascertain the cause.  At that moment Ponteac sprang lightly again to his feet, responding to the yell of his confederates by another even more startling, fierce, and prolonged than their own.  He then stalked proudly to the head of the party, and even preceded Major Blackwater into the council room.

In this rude theatre of conference some changes had been made since their recent visit, which escaped not the observation of the quick-sighted chiefs.  Their mats lay in the position they had previously occupied, and the chairs of the officers were placed as before, but the room itself had been considerably enlarged.  The slight partition terminating the interior extremity of the mess-room, and dividing it from that of one of the officers, had been removed; and midway through this, extending entirely across, was drawn a curtain of scarlet cloth, against which the imposing figure of the governor, elevated as his seat was above those of the other officers, was thrown into strong relief.  There was another change, that escaped not the observation of the Indians, and that was, not more than one half of the officers who had been present at the first conference being now in the room.  Of these latter, one had, moreover, been sent away by the governor the moment the chiefs were ushered in.

“Ugh!” ejaculated the proud leader, as he took his seat unceremoniously, and yet not without reluctance, upon the mat.  “The council-room of my father is bigger than when the Ottawa was here before, yet the number of his chiefs is not so many.”

“The great chief of the Ottawas knows that the Saganaw has promised the red skins a feast,” returned the governor.  “Were he to leave it to his young warriors to provide it, he would not be able to receive the Ottawa like a great chief, and to make peace with him as he could wish.”

“My father has a great deal of cloth, red, like the blood of a pale face,” pursued the Indian, rather in demand than in observation, as he pointed with his finger to the opposite end of the room.  “When the Ottawa was here last, he did not see it.”

“The great chief of the Ottawas knows that the great father of the Saganaw has a big heart to make presents to the red skins.  The cloth the Ottawa sees there is sufficient to make leggings for the chiefs of all the nations.”

Apparently satisfied with this reply, the fierce Indian uttered one of his strong guttural and assentient “ughs,” and then commenced filling the pipe of peace, correct on the present occasion in all its ornaments, which was handed to him by the Delaware chief.  It was remarked by the officers this operation took up an unusually long portion of his time, and that he frequently turned his ear, like a horse stirred by the huntsman’s horn, with quick and irrepressible eagerness towards the door.

“The pale warrior, the friend of the Ottawa chief, is not here,” said the governor, as he glanced his eye along the semicircle of Indians.  “How is this?  Is his voice still sick, that he cannot come; or has the great chief of the Ottawas forgotten to tell him?”