“Montezuma’s power fell before the white man’s advance, and I fear the white settlers crowd too closely upon your projected empire,” replied Percy Vere. “But it is a great idea, and that you may prosper is my sincere wish. I would like to see the red-man raised to a better position than that he now occupies. You are the best judge of his capabilities. The white hunters are too prone to regard him in the light of a savage beast—and not without some cause, either.”
“Cause? The first offense came from the white man!” cried the Prophet, fiercely.
“It may be so; but, in our particular instance, if you had let us alone, we should not have troubled you.”
CHAPTER XI.
A SILVAN REPAST.
The Prophet laughed in that rasping manner so peculiar to him. It was not a pleasant kind of mirth to listen to. It set Percy Cute’s teeth on edge every time he heard it.
“You had set foot upon my territory after my warning,” he cried. “You know the penalty of trespassing.”
“Ah! then you had some hand in the apparitions that appeared upon the cliff last night?”
“They came at my bidding.”
At this moment the Indian boy, Oneotah, brought them a venison steak upon a birch platter, some parched corn, and three drinking-horns. He placed the venison and corn before them, and then filled the drinking-horns from the streamlet.
Smoholler did the honors of this silvan table with a courtesy that won strangely upon the boys, and Oneotah stood beside him, ready to do his bidding at the slightest sign.