So they two went straight in, with the Hunter’s heart beating a little swiftly at the sight of the sleek Ottawas and bristle-headed Hurons, of the French north, painted for war. First a sharp-eyed Ottawa gave an alarm call, then a French sentry shouted; and soldiers sprang to arms and the Ottawas and Hurons raced with their guns.
But when they all saw only two boys, they waited in silence, until the Ottawas and Hurons cried:
“Mingo!”
Then Ottawas and Hurons met them, and grabbed them and jostled them, seized their guns and, threatening them with the hatchet, marched them to the French captains.
The French captain who was chief called:
“Enough, my children! These are friends.”
Thereupon the Ottawas and Hurons stood aside, while the captain smilingly questioned by the mouth of a darker, wiry man who spoke in the Iroquois and wore gay buckskin beaded with the Ottawa chief-sign.
“My young brothers are from our friends the Mingo?”
“I am Oneida; he Seneca,” replied the Buck. “Mingo.”
“The children of Onontio welcome the Mingo. My young brothers have come on a visit?”