to destroy the enemies of their chief; but when they
came, the spies had fled, and the voice of Onondato was
low and weak as that of a new fawn; and when the warriors
came to the other end of the bridge, they found the pale
chief lying across the road and covered over with blood.
They thought he was dead, and their cry was terrible;
for the pale warrior is a great chief, and the Ottawas
love him; but when they looked again, they saw that the
blood was the blood of Onondato, whose throat the spies
of the Saganaw had cut, that he might not hunt them and
give them to the tomahawk of the red skins."

Frequent glances, expressive of their deep interest in
the announcement of this intelligence, passed between
the governor and his officers. It was clear the party
who had encountered the terrible warrior of the Fleur de
lis were not spies (for none were employed by the garrison),
but their adventurous companions who had so recently
quitted them. This was put beyond all doubt by the night,
the hour, and the not less important feet of the locality;
for it was from the bridge described by the Indian, near
which the Canadian had stated his canoe to be chained,
they were to embark on their perilous and uncertain
enterprise. The question of their own escape from danger
in this unlooked for collision with so powerful and
ferocious an enemy, and of the fidelity of the Canadian,
still remained involved in doubt, which it might be
imprudent, if not dangerous, to seek to have resolved by
any direct remark on the subject to the keen and observant
warrior. The governor removed this difficulty by artfully