iver has this day been cut off, so that no aid
may come to him. Tell him that the soldiers of the French king are
already hastening to fight beside their red brothers. Tell him that he
may go now and go in peace; but if he tarries beyond the setting of
another sun, the wolves of the forest shall feast on the bodies of his
red-coated soldiers, while their scalps shall dry in Ottawa lodges.
Go, for Pontiac has spoken."

With trembling alacrity the Canadians obeyed the mandate, and with
their departure Major Hester realized that he was indeed a prisoner in
the hands of a relentless foe. While wondering as to his ultimate
fate, he was conducted by Pontiac to a comfortable French frame-house
standing just beyond the Indian village, and informed that this was to
be his lodging.

"Here," said Pontiac, "shall my brother dwell in safety; but let him
not set foot outside. My young men are angry, and their guns are quick
to shoot. Even in the dark their eyes are opened wide by the sight of
an English scalp."

"I suppose that as your prisoner I must submit to your orders," replied
Major Hester, "though why you don't put an end to this farce and kill
me at once I fail to comprehend."

"Did the white-haired chief kill me when I slept in the house of the
two trees?" demanded Pontiac.

"When did you ever sleep in Tawtry House? Certainly you never did with
my knowledge and consent."

"Many years have passed, and there has been much fighting since that
time; but surely my brother has not forgotten Songa the Ottawa?"

"No. I remember him well; but what has he to do with this present
affair?"

"I," replied the chief, drawing himself proudly up to his full height,
"am Pontiac; but I was Songa; and as Major Hester saved the life of
Songa, so Pontiac saves the life of Major Hester, by detaining him in
this place while the English fort is wiped from the face of the earth
and all within it are put to death."

CHAPTER XII

DONALD AT JOHNSON CASTLE

Some two weeks after the events just narrated, a youth, tanned to the
swarthiness of an Indian, whose hair was long and unkempt, and whose
well-worn suit of buckskin evidenced hard and prolonged travel, paced
impatiently to and fro in the anteroom of Sir William's private office
at Johnson Castle. Although his moccasined feet made no sound on the
uncarpeted floor, his movements seemed to annoy the elder of two
officers who, in handsome uniforms, occupied a window-seat at o