ty who had encountered the terrible warrior of the
Fleur de lis were not spies (for none were employed by the garrison),
but their adventurous companions who had so recently quitted them. This
was put beyond all doubt by the night, the hour, and the not less
important feet of the locality; for it was from the bridge described by
the Indian, near which the Canadian had stated his canoe to be chained,
they were to embark on their perilous and uncertain enterprise. The
question of their own escape from danger in this unlooked for collision
with so powerful and ferocious an enemy, and of the fidelity of the
Canadian, still remained involved in doubt, which it might be
imprudent, if not dangerous, to seek to have resolved by any direct
remark on the subject to the keen and observant warrior. The governor
removed this difficulty by artfully observing,--

"The great chief of the Ottawas has said they were the spies of the
Saganaw who killed the pale warrior. His young men has found them,
then; or how could he know they were spies?"

"Is there a warrior among the Saganaw who dares to show himself in the
path of the red skins, unless he come in strength and surrounded by his
thunder?" was the sneering demand. "But my father is wrong, if he
supposes the friend of the Ottawa is killed. No," he pursued fiercely,
"the dogs of spies could not kill him; they were afraid to face so
terrible a warrior. They came behind him in the dark, and they struck
him on the head like cowards and foxes as they were. The warrior of the
pale face, and the friend of the Ottawa chief, is sick, but not dead.
He lies without motion in his tent, and his voice cannot speak to his
friend to tell him who were his enemies, that he may bring their scalps
to hang up within his wigwam. But the great chief will soon be well,
and his arm will be stronger than ever to spill the blood of the
Saganaw as he has done before."

"The talk of the Ottawa chief is strange," returned the governor,
emphatically and with dignity. "He says he conies to smoke the pipe of
peace with the Saganaw, and yet he talks of spilling their blood as if
it was water from the lake. What does the Ottawa mean?"

"Ugh!" exclaimed the Indian, in his surprise. "My father is right, but
the Ottawa and the Saganaw have not yet smoked together. When they
have, the hatchet will be buried for ever. Until then, they are still
enemies."

During this long and important colloquy of the leading parties,