for neither were they in their war paint, nor were their arms of a description to carry intimidation to a disciplined and fortified soldiery.  Bows, arrows, tomahawks, war clubs, spears, and scalping knives, constituted their warlike equipments, but neither rifle nor fire-arms of any kind were discernible.  Several of their leaders, distinguishable by a certain haughty carriage and commanding gesticulation, were collected within the elevated bomb-proof, apparently holding a short but important conference apart from their people, most of whom stood or lay in picturesque attitudes around the ruin.  These also had a directing spirit.  A tall and noble looking warrior, wearing a deer-skin hunting frock closely girded around his loins, appeared to command the deference of his colleagues, claiming profound attention when he spoke himself, and manifesting his assent or dissent to the apparently expressed opinions of the lesser chiefs merely by a slight movement of the head.

“There he is indeed!” exclaimed Captain Erskine, speaking as one who communes with his own thoughts, while he kept his telescope levelled on the form of the last warrior; “looking just as noble as when, three years ago, he opposed himself to the progress of the first English detachment that had ever penetrated to this part of the world.  What a pity such a fine fellow should be so desperate and determined an enemy!”

“True; you were with Major Rogers on that expedition,” observed the governor, in a tone now completely divested of the haughtiness which formerly characterised his address to his officers.  “I have often heard him speak of it.  You had many difficulties to contend against, if I recollect.”

“We had indeed, sir,” returned the frank-hearted Erskine, dropping the glass from his eye.  “So many, in fact, that more than once, in the course of our progress through the wilderness, did I wish myself at head-quarters with my company.  Never shall I forget the proud and determined expression of Ponteac’s countenance, when he told Rogers, in his figurative language, ’he stood in the path in which he travelled.’ "

“Thank Heaven, he at least stands not in the path in which others travel,” musingly rejoined the governor.  “But what sudden movement is that within the ruin?”

“The Indians are preparing to show a white flag,” shouted an artillery-man from his station in one of the embrasures below.

The governor and his officers received this intelligence without surprise:  the former took the glass from Captain Erskine, and coolly raised it to his eye.  The consultation had ceased; and the several chiefs, with the exception of their leader and two others, were now seen quitting the bomb-proof to join their respective tribes.  One of those who remained, sprang upon an elevated fragment of the ruin, and uttered a prolonged cry, the purport of which,—­and it was fully understood from its peculiar nature,—­was to claim attention from the fort.  He then received from the hands of the other chief a long spear, to the end of which was attached a piece of white linen.  This he waved several times above his head; then stuck the barb of the spear firmly into the projecting fragment.  Quitting his elevated station, he next stood at the side of the Ottawa chief, who had already assumed the air and attitude of one waiting to observe in what manner his signal would be received.