hted hall filled with staring men and women. They looked neither to
the right nor to the left, but took their places in quiet and watched
with steady eyes and unsmiling faces the entertainment provided for
them. Osceola had made no objection to coming, but he sat amidst the
mirth and glamor, so sad and stern that those who had brought him there
and those who had come to see him felt rebuked. His trouble was too real
to be easily comforted, too deep to be an amusing spectacle. The papers
of the day recorded the strange scene of the captive Osceola at the play
in poetry and prose.

Later an incident happened in which Osceola took some interest. George
Catlin, who had traveled for several years among the Indians and was
regarded by them as a friend, came to the fort to paint the portraits of
the chiefs for the United States government. When Mr. Catlin asked
Osceola if he might paint his portrait the latter seemed greatly
pleased. He arrayed himself in his gayest calico hunting shirt, his
splendid plumed turban, and all his ornaments, and stood patiently while
the artist worked. Mr. Catlin enjoyed painting the fine head, with its
high forehead and clear eye. He made two portraits of Osceola, both of
which are now in the collection of Indian portraits at the Smithsonian
Institution, in Washington.

Mr. Catlin came to be well acquainted with the chiefs whose portraits he
painted, and used to have them come to his room in the evenings, where
they all talked with great freedom. He felt deep sympathy for Osceola,
who told him all the details of his capture. When Osceola learned that
Mr. Catlin had been west of the Mississippi he asked him many questions
about the country and the Indians living there.

But every day Osceola's health grew more feeble and, on the day when the
second portrait was finished, he became so ill that he was thought to be
dying. He rallied, however, and when Mr. Catlin left a few days later,
it was with the hope that Osceola would regain his health and strength.
He requested the fort doctor to keep him informed about the chief's
condition.

XII. THE END

The day after George Catlin left Fort Moultrie, Osceola had a severe
attack of throat trouble. He refused to take the doctor's medicine. A
Seminole medicine man came and gave the sick man Indian remedies.
Osceola's wives nursed him tenderly, but in spite of all they could do
he grew rapidly worse and died on the thirtieth of January, 1838, aft