The young chief dropped the
point of his tomahawk, bowed his head in submission, and
then resuming his seat, sat during the remainder of the
night with his arms folded, and his head bent in silence
over his chest.
"Our brother has done well," said Ponteac, glancing
approvingly at him who had exhibited the reeking trophy,
and whom he evidently favoured. "He is a great chief,
and his words are truth. We heard the report of his rifle,
and we also heard the cry that told he had borne away
the scalp of an enemy. But we will think of this to-morrow.
Let us now commence our talk."
Our readers will readily imagine the feelings of Captain
de Haldimar during this short but exciting scene. From
the account given by the warrior, there could be no doubt
the murdered man was the unhappy Donellan; who, probably,
neglecting the caution given him, had exposed himself to
the murderous aim of this fierce being, who was apparently
a scout sent for the purpose of watching the movements
of the garrison. The direction of the firing, the allusion
made to the regimentals, nay, the scalp itself, which he
knew from the short crop to be that of a soldier, and
fancied he recognised from its colour to be that of his
servant, formed but too conclusive evidence of the fact;
and, bitterly and deeply, as he gazed on this melancholy
proof of the man's sacrifice of life to his interest,
did he repent that he had made him the companion of his
adventure, or that, having done so, he had not either
brought him away altogether, or sent him instantly back
to the fort.
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