He was well nigh led away into speculations regarding the strange celerity with which news can be carried orally, and was beginning to calculate how much distance to travel would be saved in a given space, by one man shouting the tidings to another at a distance, when he forced back his mind into the track it had left, and came to the full conclusion from his knowledge of the character of the parties, and from all that he had heard, that certainly the Black Eagle was cognizant of the death of one of his tribe by the hand of Captain Brooks, and probably--though not certainly--had communicated the facts, but not his views and purposes, to his daughter, whose keen eyes were likely to discover much of that which he intended to conceal.

CHAPTER VII

There was a curious and motley assembly, that night, in the halls of Sir William Johnson. There were several ladies and gentlemen from Albany, several young military men, and two or three persons of a class now extinct, but who then drove a thriving commerce, and whose peculiar business it was to trade with the Indians. Some of the latter were exceedingly well educated men, and one or two of them were persons not only of enlightened minds, but of enlarged views and heart. The others were mere brutal speculators, whose whole end and object in life was to wring as much from the savages and give as little in return as possible. Besides these, an Indian chief would, from time to time, appear in the rooms, often marching through in perfect silence, observing all that was going on with dignified gravity, and then going back to his companions at the Castle. Amongst the rest was Otaitsa, still in her Indian costume, but evidently in gala dress, of the finest cloth and the most elaborate embroidery. Not only was she perfectly at her ease, talking to everyone, laughing with many; but the sort of shrinking, timid tenderness which gave her so great a charm in the society of the few whom she loved had given place to a wild spirit of gaiety but little in accordance with the character of her nation.

She glided hither and thither through the room; she rested in one place hardly for a moment; her jests were as light, and sometimes as sharp as those of almost any Parisian dame; and when one of the young officers ventured to speak to her somewhat lightly as the mere Indian girl, she piled upon him a mass of ridicule that wrung tears of laughter from the eyes of one or two older men standing near.

"I know not what has come to the child to-night," said Mr. Gore, who was seated near Edith in one of the rooms; "a wild spirit seems to have seized upon her, which is quite unlike her whole character and nature--unlike the character of her people, too, or I might think that the savage had returned notwithstanding all my care."

"Perhaps it is the novelty and excitement of the scene," said Edith.

"Oh no," answered the missionary, "there is nothing new in this scene to her. She has been at these meetings several times during the last two or three years, but never seemed to yield to their influence as she has done to-night."

"She has hardly spoken a word to me," said Edith. "I hope she will not forget the friends who love her."

"No fear of that, my dear," replied Mr. Gore, "Otaitsa is all heart, and that heart a gentle one; under its influence is she acting now. It throbs with something that we do not know; and those light words that make us smile to hear, have sources deep within her--perhaps of bitterness."

"I think I have heard her say," answered Edith, "that you educated her from her childhood."