Casting his eyes behind him, as if
fearful of a speedy interruption, he said, in tones much less
pretending than those he had first resorted to--
"Give Weucha the milk of the Long-knives, and he will sing your name
in the ears of the great men of his tribe."
"Go," repeated the trapper, motioning him away, with strong disgust.
"Your young men are speaking of Mahtoree. My words are for the ears of
a chief."
The savage cast a look at the other, which, notwithstanding the dim
light, was sufficiently indicative of implacable hostility. He then
stole away among his fellows, anxious to conceal the counterfeit he
had attempted to practise, no less than the treachery he had
contemplated against a fair division of the spoils, from the man named
by the trapper, whom he now also knew to be approaching, by the manner
in which his name passed from one to another, in the band. He had
hardly disappeared before a warrior of powerful frame advanced out of
the dark circle, and placed himself before the captives, with that
high and proud bearing for which a distinguished Indian chief is ever
so remarkable.
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