CHAPTER IV.

There were few forms of courtesy observed by the warriors towards the English officers on entering the council room.  Ponteac, who had collected all his native haughtiness into one proud expression of look and figure, strode in without taking the slightest notice even of the governor.  The other chiefs imitated his example, and all took their seats upon the matting in the order prescribed by their rank among the tribes, and their experience in council.  The Ottawa chief sat at the near extremity of the room, and immediately facing the governor.  A profound silence was observed for some minutes after the Indians had seated themselves, during which they proceeded to fill their pipes.  The handle of that of the Ottawa chief was decorated with numerous feathers fancifully disposed.

“This is well,” at length observed the governor.  “It is long since the great chiefs of the nations have smoked the sweet grass in the council hall of the Saganaw.  What have they to say, that their young men may have peace to hunt the beaver, and to leave the print of their mocassins in the country of the Buffalo?—­What says the Ottawa chief?”

“The Ottawa chief is a great warrior,” returned the other, haughtily; and again repudiating, in the indomitableness of his pride, the very views that a more artful policy had first led him to avow.  “He has already said that, within a single moon, nine of the strong holds of the Saganaw have fallen into his hands, and that the scalps of the white men fill the tents of his warriors.  If the red skins wish for peace, it is because they are sick with spilling the blood of their enemies.  Does my father hear?”

“The Ottawa has been cunning, like the fox,” calmly returned the governor.  “He went with deceit upon his lips, and said to the great chiefs of the strong holds of the Saganaw,—­’You have no more forts upon the lakes; they have all fallen before the red skins:  they gave themselves into our hands; and we spared their lives, and sent them down to the great towns near the salt lake.’  But this was false:  the chiefs of the Saganaw, believing what was said to them, gave up their strong holds; but their lives were not spared, and the grass of the Canadas is yet moist with their blood.  Does the Ottawa hear?”

Amazement and stupefaction sat for a moment on the features of the Indians.  The fact was as had been stated; and yet, so completely had the several forts been cut off from all communication, it was deemed almost impossible one could have received tidings of the fate of the other, unless conveyed through the Indians themselves.

“The spies of the Saganaw have been very quick to escape the vigilance of the red skins,” at length replied the Ottawa; “yet they have returned with a lie upon their lips.  I swear by the Great Spirit, that nine of the strong holds of the Saganaw have been destroyed.  How could the Ottawa go with deceit upon his lips, when his words were truth?”