hated all men, but especially Has-se and the white lad, who, he felt
certain, had taught the former the trick of wrestling, by means of
which the games had been won.

In destroying the great storehouse, with its winter's supply of
provisions of his tribe, his desire had not been so much to injure his
own people as the white men, whom he knew were also dependent upon it
for food, and of whom Has-se's friend was one who would thus suffer.
He had thought to escape detection after committing this wicked act,
and that the fire would be supposed to be the result of an accident.
This hope had been dashed by the unexpected appearance of Has-se, who
had overheard his muttered threats; and now he knew that he must be an
outlaw from his tribe forever, and that he would meet with a terrible
punishment if he ever fell into their hands.

Of all his bitter thoughts the one uppermost in his mind was the desire
for revenge upon the gentle but high-spirited Has-se, who had not only
won from him his coveted position, but against whom he had just struck
such a cruel and cowardly blow.

This is the way of the world, with white as well as with red men, and
with boys and girls as well as with grown people. The more we injure a
person, the more bitter do we feel against him; and the more we help
and do good to him, the more kindly do we feel towards him.

The deep scowl of hate had not left Chitta's face when he ran his canoe
ashore at the foot of the high bluff upon which Admiral Ribault had
erected the stone pillar engraved with the French coat of arms.
Securing his canoe, and carefully concealing it from those who might
pass on the river, Chitta made his way, by means of a narrow path
through the tangled underbrush, to the summit. From here, by daylight,
he would command a view of the river for miles in either direction, and
would be able to detect the approach of any who should come in search
of him while yet they were a long way off.

As it was still night, and nothing was now to be seen except what was
disclosed by the moon, the young Indian gathered together a small heap
of moss and leaves, and drawing his robe over his head, flung himself
down for a few hours' sleep.

Tired as he was, Chitta fell asleep almost instantly; but it was fully
an hour after he had done so that a tall Indian rose, without a sound,
from the clump of bushes, concealed by which he had all this time been
watching the motionless figure, and cautiously ap