desperately
at your life, and whose object was defeated by a soldier of your
regiment? I am that officer: my victim escaped me then, but not for
ever. The hour of vengeance is nearly now arrived, and your capture is
the pledge of my success. Hark, how the death-cry of all his hated race
will ring in madness on your father's ear!"

Amazement, stupefaction, and horror, filled the mind of the wretched
officer at this extraordinary declaration. He perfectly recollected
that the individual who had evinced so much personal hostility on the
occasion alluded to, was indeed a man wearing the French uniform,
although at the head of a band of savages, and of a stature and
strength similar to those of him who now so fiercely avowed himself the
bitter and deadly foe of all his race. If this were so, and his tone
and language left little room for doubt, the doom of the ill-fated
garrison was indeed irrevocably sealed. This mysterious enemy evidently
possessed great influence in the councils of the Indians; and while the
hot breath of his hatred continued to fan the flame of fierce hostility
that had been kindled in the bosom of Ponteac, whose particular friend
he appeared to be, there would be no end to the atrocities that must
follow. Great, however, as was the dismay of Captain de Haldimar, who,
exhausted with the adventures of the night, presented a ghastly image
of anxiety and fatigue, it was impossible for him to repress the
feelings of indignation with which the language of this fierce man had
inspired him.

"If you are in reality a French officer," he said, "and not an
Englishman, as your accent would denote, the sentiments you have now
avowed may well justify the belief, that you have been driven with
ignominy from a service which your presence must eternally have
disgraced. There is no country in Europe that would willingly claim you
for its subject. Nay, even the savage race, with whom you are now
connected, would, if apprised of your true nature, spurn you as a thing
unworthy to herd even with their wolf-dogs."

A fierce sardonic laugh burst from the lips of the warrior, but this
was so mingled with rage as to give an almost devilish expression to
his features.

"Ignominy--ignominy!" he repeated, while his right hand played
convulsively with the handle of his tomahawk; "is it for a De Haldimar
to taunt me with ignominy? Fool!" he pursued, after a momentary pause,
"you have sealed your doom." Then abruptly quitting th