“And a messenger, you say? From whom? What do you want?”
He drew close to her horse; she still kept her hand on the hilt of her tomahawk, watching his movements with her eagle glance, but evinced no fear.
“Can I speak openly?” he almost whispered. “Is there no one to overhear me?”
“We are quite alone; tell me your errand at once.”
“I have a letter for you, lady; I was to place it in your own hands with all secrecy. Wait—you shall see how Rene fulfills the commands of those who employ him.”
He thrust his hand into his hunting-shirt and tore it open at the breast; made a slit in the lining with his knife and drew out a sealed package.
“There it is,” he said; “it will tell you all you wish to know.”
Mahaska grasped the letter, feeling confident that in some way this epistle would aid her schemes. She motioned the spy to retire, and he crept away to some distance with the stealthy tread which had become natural to him.
Mahaska allowed the reins to fall upon the neck of her well-trained steed, and broke the seal of the letter. Still she did not relinquish her vigilance; her quick ear caught the least movement of the half-breed as if it were some artfully-spread snare she was quite ready to meet. But the instant her eyes fell upon the writing her suspicions vanished, for she recognized the signature of the English Governor.
The letter was long and artfully written, making it appear for her interest to bring the Indians over to the English. There were liberal promises of gifts and money—messengers were waiting her answer to set forth at once to consult with her.