d. As we stood
thus, glaring at each other, a sudden remembrance made me pause.
"Sau-ga-nash"?--surely it was neither more nor less than a Wyandot
expression signifying "Englishman." That broad face was not wholly
Indian; could this be the half-breed chief of whom I had so often
heard? 'Twas worth the chance to learn.

"You are Sau-ga-nash?" I asked, slowly, Toinette still clinging to me,
her face over her shoulder to front the silent savage. "A chief of the
Wyandots?"

He moved his head slightly, with a mutter of acquiescence, his eyes
expressing wonder at the question.

"The same whom the Americans name Billy Caldwell?"

"'T is the word used by the whites."

I drew a quick breath of relief, which caused Mademoiselle to release
her grasp a little, as her anxious eyes sought my face for explanation.

"Recall you a day twelve years ago on the River Raisin?" I asked
clearly, feeling confident now that my words were no longer idle. "An
Indian was captured in his canoe by a party of frontiersmen who were
out to revenge a bloody raid along the valley of the Maumee. That
Indian was a Wyandot and a chief. He was bound to a tree beside the
river bank and condemned to torture; when the leader of the rangers, a
man with a gray beard, stood before him rifle in hand, and swore to
kill the first white man who put flint and steel to the wood. Recall
you this, Sau-ga-nash?"

The stolid face of the listening savage changed, the expression of
revengeful hostility merging into one of undisguised amazement.

"That which you picture has not left my memory," he answered gravely.

"Nor the pledge you gave to that white captain when he brought you
safely to Detroit?" I queried, eagerly.

"Nor the pledge. But what has all this to do here?"

"Only, Sau-ga-nash, that I am Major David Wayland's son."

The Indian sprang forward, his eyes burning fiercely; and thinking his
movement to be hostile, I thrust the girl aside that I might be free to
repel his attack. But he did not touch me, merely peering eagerly into
my face with a keen questioning look that read my every feature.

"You have the nose and forehead," he reflected aloud; "yes, and the
eyes. Before the Great Spirit, I will redeem my pledge; a chief of the
Wyandots cannot lie."

He paused, and I could mark the varied emotions that swayed him, so
deeply was he moved by this strange discovery. Unconsciously my hand
clasped Mademoiselle's, for now I felt that our f