hed, he proceeded to bestow sundry
abusive epithets upon the prisoner, charging him with having put his
young men to a great deal of needless trouble, besides having killed
several; for which, he added, the Longknife ought to expect nothing
better than to have his face blacked and be burnt alive,--a hint that
produced a universal grunt of assent on the part of the auditors. Having
received this testimony of approbation, he resumed his discourse,
pursuing it for the space of ten minutes or more with considerable vigour
and eloquence; but as the whole speech consisted, like most other Indian
speeches, of the same things said over and over again, those same things
being scarce worth the trouble of utterance, we think it needless to say
anything further of it; except that, first, as it seemed to Roland, as
far as he could understand the broken expressions of the chief, he
delivered a furious tirade against the demon enemy of his race, the
bloody Jibbenainosay, the white man's War-Manito, whom he declared it was
his purpose to fight and kill, as soon as that destroyer should have the
courage to face him, the old Shawnee chief, like a human warrior,--and
that it inspired several others to get up and make speeches likewise. Of
all these the burden seemed to be the unpardonable crime of killing their
comrades, of which the young soldier had been guilty; and he judged by
the fury of their countenances, that they were only debating whether they
should put him to death on the spot, or carry him to their country to be
tortured.

The last speaker of all was the old Piankeshaw, whose meaning could be
only guessed at from his countenance and gestures, the one being as angry
and wo-begone as the latter were active and expressive. He pointed, at
least a dozen times over, to two fresh and gory scalps,--the most highly
valued trophies of victory,--that lay at the feet of the Shawnee chief,
as many times to the horses, and thrice as often at the person of Roland,
who stood now surveying his dark visage with a look of sullen despair,
now casting his eyes, with a gaze of inexpressible emotion, towards the
little copse, in which he still sought in vain a glimpse of his Edith.
But if the old warrior's finger was often bent towards these three
attractive objects, innumerable were the times it was pointed at the two
or three little whisky-kegs, which, not having been yet distributed, lay
untouched upon the grass. The words with which he accompani