“A flag of truce in all its bearings, by Jupiter!” remarked Captain Erskine.  “Ponteac seems to have acquired a few lessons since we first met.”

“This is evidently the suggestion of some European,” observed Major Blackwater; “for how should he understand any thing of the nature of a white flag?  Some of those vile spies have put him up to this.”

“True enough, Blackwater; and they appear to have found an intelligent pupil,” observed Captain Wentworth.  “I was curious to know how he would make the attempt to approach us; but certainly never once dreamt of his having recourse to so civilised a method.  Their plot works well, no doubt; still we have the counter-plot to oppose to it.”

“We must foil them with their own weapons,” remarked the governor, “even if it be only with a view to gain time.  Wentworth, desire one of your bombardiers to hoist the large French flag on the staff.”

The order was promptly obeyed.  The Indians made a simultaneous movement expressive of their satisfaction; and in the course of a minute, the tall warrior, accompanied by nearly a dozen inferior chiefs, was seen slowly advancing across the common, towards the group of officers.

“What generous confidence the fellow has, for an Indian!” observed Captain Erskine, who could not dissemble his admiration of the warrior.  “He steps as firmly and as proudly within reach of our muskets, as if he was leading in the war-dance.”

“How strange,” mused Captain Blessington, “that one who meditates so deep a treachery, should have no apprehension of it in others!”

“It is a compliment to the honour of our flag,” observed the governor, “which it must be our interest to encourage.  If, as you say, Erskine, the man is really endowed with generosity, the result of this affair will assuredly call it forth.”

“If it prove otherwise, sir,” was the reply, “we must only attribute his perseverance to the influence which that terrible warrior of the Fleur de lis is said to exercise over his better feelings.  By the by, I see nothing of him among this flag of truce party.  It could scarcely be called a violation of faith to cut off such a rascally renegade.  Were he of the number of those advancing, and Valletort’s rifle within my reach, I know not what use I might not be tempted to make of the last.”

Poor Erskine was singularly infelicitous in touching, and ever unconsciously, on a subject sure to give pain to more than one of his brother officers.  A cloud passed over the brow of the governor, but it was one that originated more in sorrow than in anger.  Neither had he time to linger on the painful recollections hastily and confusedly called up by the allusion made to this formidable and mysterious being, for the attention of all was now absorbed by the approaching Indians.  With a bold and confiding carriage the fierce Ponteac moved at the head of his little party, nor hesitated one moment in his course, until he got near the brink of the ditch, and stood face to face with the governor, at a distance that gave both parties not only the facility of tracing the expression of each other’s features, but of conversing without effort.  There he made a sudden stand, and thrusting his spear into the earth, assumed an attitude as devoid of apprehension as if he had been in the heart of his own encampment.