nod of assent.

Though more than one had turned, as if to catch the meaning of his
words, they remained unanswered.

"I should be grieved to think," continued Duncan, speaking slowly, and
using the simplest French of which he was the master, "to believe, that
none of this wise and brave nation understand the language that the
'Grand Monarque' uses when he talks to his children. His heart would be
heavy did he believe his red warriors paid him so little respect!"

A long and grave pause succeeded, during which no movement of a limb,
nor any expression of an eye, betrayed the impression produced by his
remark. Duncan, who knew that silence was a virtue among his hosts,
gladly had recourse to the custom, in order to arrange his ideas. At
length the same warrior who had before addressed him replied, by dryly
demanding, in the language of the Canadas--

"When our Great Father speaks to his people, is it with the tongue of a
Huron?"

"He knows no difference in his children, whether the color of the skin
be red, or black, or white," returned Duncan, evasively; "though chiefly
is he satisfied with the brave Hurons."

"In what manner will he speak," demanded the wary chief, "when the
runners count to him the scalps which five nights ago grew on the heads
of the Yengeese?"

"They were his enemies," said Duncan, shuddering involuntarily; "and,
doubtless, he will say, It is good; my Hurons are very gallant."

"Our Canada father does not think it. Instead of looking forward to
reward his Indians, his eyes are turned backward. He sees the dead
Yengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean?"

"A great chief, like him, has more thoughts than tongues. He looks to
see that no enemies are on his trail."

"The canoe of a dead warrior will not float on the Horican," returned
the savage, gloomily. "His ears are open to the Delawares, who are not
our friends, and they fill them with lies."

"It cannot be. See; he has bid me, who am a man that knows the art of
healing, to go to his children, the red Hurons of the great lakes, and
ask if any are sick!"

Another silence succeeded this annunciation of the character Duncan had
assumed. Every eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as if to
inquire into the truth or falsehood of the declaration, with an
intelligence and keenness that caused the subject of their scrutiny to
tremble for the result. He was, however, relieved again by the former
speaker.

"Do the cunning men of the Can