first done her utmost to remove the traces of tears, and took her
place by their side. The mother said something in her native tongue,
but it could not have been of much account, for the child gave no
reply.

Omas did not speak. One quick glance was bestowed upon his child,
and then he addressed himself to the work before him.

Omas was as cunning as a serpent. He would not have hesitated to
assail these two Senecas, for, truth to tell, he could never feel
much love for the conquerors of his people. He did not fear them; but
he saw the way to win his point without such tempestuous violence.

His words, therefore, were calculated to soothe rather than
irritate. He asked them to explain how it was they were in charge
of his friends, and listened attentively while one of them answered
his inquiry.

Then, as is natural with his race, he recounted in somewhat
extravagant language his own deeds of the last few days. There is
reason to believe he gave himself credit for a number of exploits
against the palefaces of which he was innocent.

Then he said the only ones he loved among the palefaces were the
three there present--he had entrusted his only child to them,
and they had saved her from the anger of their people. He had slept
under their roof, and eaten of their bread. They were his best
friends; and they his brave Seneca brothers, when they knew of this,
would be glad. He had set out to conduct them to the settlements,
and his brothers would wish all a safe arrival there.