ich
had every appearance of having just been discharged, a tomahawk reeking
with blood, and a scalping-knife, which, in the hurry of some recent
service it had been made to perform, had missed its sheath, and was
thrust naked into the belt that encircled his loins. His countenance
wore an expression of malignant triumph; and as his eye fell on the
assembled throng, its self-satisfied and exulting glance seemed to give
them to understand he came not without credentials to recommend him to
their notice. Captain de Haldimar was particularly struck by the air of
bold daring and almost insolent recklessness pervading every movement
of this man; and it was difficult to say whether the haughtiness of
bearing peculiar to Ponteac himself, was not exceeded by that of this
herculean warrior.

By the body of chiefs his appearance had been greeted with a mere
general grunt of approbation; but the countenance of the leader
expressed a more personal interest. All seemed to expect he had
something of moment to communicate; but as it was not consistent with
the dignity of Indian etiquette to enquire, they waited calmly until it
should please their new associate to enter on the history of his
exploits. In pursuance of an invitation from Ponteac, he now took his
seat on the right hand of that chief, and immediately facing the tree,
from which Captain de Haldimar, strongly excited both by the reports of
the shots that had been fired, and the sight of the bloody tomahawk of
the recently arrived Indian, gazed earnestly and anxiously on the
swarthy throng.

Glancing once more triumphantly round the circle, who sat smoking their
pipes in calm and deliberative silence, the latter now observed the eye
of a young chief, who sat opposite to him, intently riveted on his left
shoulder. He raised his hand to the part, withdrew it, looked at it,
and found it wet with blood. A slight start of surprise betrayed his
own unconsciousness of the accident; yet, secretly vexed at the
discovery which had been made, and urged probably by one of his wayward
fits, he demanded haughtily and insultingly of the young chief, if that
was the first time he had ever looked on the blood of a warrior.

"Does my brother feel pain?" was the taunting reply. "If he is come to
us with a trophy, it is not without being dearly bought. The Saganaw
has spilt his blood."

"The weapons of the Saganaw, like those of the smooth face of the
Ottawa, are without sting," angrily reto