Evening had not lost its light, when a shout from Walter's voice announced that he was drawing nigh the house; and in a moment after he was seen coming across the cleared land, with his bright young companion, and two other persons.
One was a tall red man, upwards of six feet in height, dressed completely in the Indian garb, but without paint. He could not have been less than sixty years of age; but his strong muscles seemed to have set at defiance the bending power of time. He was as upright as a pine, and he bore his heavy rifle in his right hand as lightly as if it had been a reed. In his left he carried a long pipe, showing that his errand was one of peace; but tomahawk and scalping-knife were in his belt, and he wore the sort of feather crown or Grostoweh distinguishing the chief.
The other man might be of the same age, or a little older. He, too, seemed active and strong for his years; but he wanted the erect and powerful bearing of his companion; and his gait and carriage, as much as his features and complexion, distinguished him from the Indian. His dress was a strange mixture of the ordinary European costume and that of the half-savage rangers of the forest. He wore a black coat, or one which had once been black; but the rest of his garments were composed of skins, some tanned into red leather, after the Indian fashion, some with the hair still on, and turned outwards. He bore no arms whatever, unless a very long and sharp-pointed knife could be considered a weapon, though in his hands it only served the innocent purpose of dividing his food, or carving willow whistles for the children of the Sachem's tribe.
Running, with a light foot, by the side of the chief, as he strode along, came Otaitsa; but the others followed the Indian fashion, coming after him in single file, while old Agrippa, with his rifle on his arm, brought up the rear, appearing from the wood somewhat behind the rest.
"It is seldom I have so many parties of guests in two short days," said Mr. Prevost, moving towards the door. "Generally, I have either a whole tribe at once, or none at all. But this is one of my best friends, my lord, and I must go to welcome him."
"He is a noble-looking man," observed the young officer. "This is the Black Eagle, I suppose, whom the pretty maiden talked of."
Mr. Prevost made no reply, for, by this time, the chief's long strides brought him almost to the door, and his hand was already extended to grasp that of his white friend.
"Welcome, Black Eagle!" said Mr. Prevost.
"Thou art my brother," returned the chief, in English, but with a much less pure accent than that of his daughter.
"What news from Corlear?" asked Mr. Prevost.