By the body of chiefs his appearance had been greeted with a mere general grunt of approbation; but the countenance of the leader expressed a more personal interest.  All seemed to expect he had something of moment to communicate; but as it was not consistent with the dignity of Indian etiquette to enquire, they waited calmly until it should please their new associate to enter on the history of his exploits.  In pursuance of an invitation from Ponteac, he now took his seat on the right hand of that chief, and immediately facing the tree, from which Captain de Haldimar, strongly excited both by the reports of the shots that had been fired, and the sight of the bloody tomahawk of the recently arrived Indian, gazed earnestly and anxiously on the swarthy throng.

Glancing once more triumphantly round the circle, who sat smoking their pipes in calm and deliberative silence, the latter now observed the eye of a young chief, who sat opposite to him, intently riveted on his left shoulder.  He raised his hand to the part, withdrew it, looked at it, and found it wet with blood.  A slight start of surprise betrayed his own unconsciousness of the accident; yet, secretly vexed at the discovery which had been made, and urged probably by one of his wayward fits, he demanded haughtily and insultingly of the young chief, if that was the first time he had ever looked on the blood of a warrior.

“Does my brother feel pain?” was the taunting reply.  “If he is come to us with a trophy, it is not without being dearly bought.  The Saganaw has spilt his blood.”

“The weapons of the Saganaw, like those of the smooth face of the Ottawa, are without sting,” angrily retorted the other.  “They only prick the skin like a thorn; but when Wacousta drinks the blood of his enemy,” and he glanced his eye fiercely at the young man, “it is the blood next his heart.”

“My brother has always big words upon his lips,” returned the young chief, with a scornful sneer at the implied threat against himself.  “But where are his proofs?”

For a moment the eye of the party thus challenged kindled into flame, while his lips were firmly compressed together; and as he half bent himself forward, to scan with greater earnestness the features of his questioner, his right hand sank to his left side, tightly grasping the handle of his scalping-knife.  The action was but momentary.  Again he drew himself up, puffed the smoke deliberately from his bloody tomahawk, and, thrusting his right hand into his bosom, drew leisurely forth a reeking scalp, which he tossed insolently across the fire into the lap of the young chief.  A loud and general “ugh!” testified the approbation of the assembled group, at the unequivocal answer thus given to the demand of the youth.  The eye of the huge warrior sparkled with a deep and ferocious exultation.

“What says the smooth face of the Ottawas now?” he demanded, in the same insolent strain.  “Does it make his heart sick to look upon the scalp of a great chief?”