"Ugh!" exclaimed the Indian, in his surprise. "My father
is right, but the Ottawa and the Saganaw have not yet
smoked together. When they have, the hatchet will be
buried for ever. Until then, they are still enemies."

During this long and important colloquy of the leading
parties, the strictest silence had been preserved by the
remainder of the council. The inferior chiefs had
continued deliberately puffing the smoke from their curled
lips, as they sat cross-legged on their mats, and nodding
their heads at intervals in confirmation of the occasional
appeal made by the rapid glance of the Ottawa, and uttering
their guttural "Ugh!" whenever any observation of the
parlant parties touched their feelings, or called forth
their surprise. The officers had been no less silent and
attentive listeners, to a conversation on the issue of
which hung so many dear and paramount interests. A pause
in the conference gave them an opportunity of commenting
in a low tone on the communication made, in the strong
excitement of his pride, by the Ottawa chief, in regard
to the terrible warrior of the Fleur de lis; who, it was
evident, swayed the councils of the Indians, and
consequently exercised an influence over the ultimate
destinies of the English, which it was impossible to
contemplate without alarm. It was evident to all, from
whatsoever cause it might arise, this man cherished a
rancour towards certain individuals in the fort, inducing
an anxiety in its reduction scarcely equalled by that
entertained on the part of the Indians themselves. Beyond
this, however, all was mystery and doubt; nor had any