"Laughed. And when I tried to convince her that my unfortunate predicament was not a subject for merriment, she only laughed the more, until finally she ran away and disappeared in the forest, with which most of the island was covered."
"Well, I don't blame her," said Donald. "Why, man, the spectacle must have been enough to make a graven image chuckle. Didn't Madam Rothsay laugh, too?"
"Certainly not. She only coughed and smiled and apologized in the sweetest manner for having accidentally been a witness to my arrival; hoped they would have the pleasure of seeing me later after I had recovered from the effects of my voyage, and all that sort of thing. Behaved in the most lady-like manner, by Jove."
"And the third lady? By the way, who was she?"
"Oh, she was only an Indian girl; but a stunner, for all that. She may have laughed, but I didn't notice; for she ran after Miss Edith. I found out about her afterwards. She is Pontiac's daughter, and her name is Ah-mo, which means the bee or the sweet one. She was educated in the convent at Montreal and went into society there. Refused a French count, I believe, and all that sort of thing. Don't you remember the fellows at Niagara were talking of her? As near as I could make out, she had been sent by her father to look after the ladies at the time of the attack on Cuyler's party, and was acting the part of hostess when I met them, or something of that kind."
"Ah-mo," repeated Donald, meditatively, and smiling as though the name recalled a pleasant vision. "Well, what became of you after that?"
"Oh! when they saw that I was a friend of the ladies, those Indian chaps behaved very decently; took me to their camp, gave me something to eat, and fixed me up as well as they knew how. Of course I was obliged to do the best I could with what they had to offer, and as paint constituted the principal part of their costume I was obliged to make use of it. They all took a hand at decorating me, and I must say that I think the tout ensemble of my appearance as an Ottawa warrior was rather neat."
"Extremely so," admitted Donald.
"That white blanket I borrowed from Miss Pontiac," continued the little paymaster, "and the moccasins I got from her brother. Of course there wasn't such a thing as a wig to be had, and so I made a liberal use of feathers in its place. The best part of the day was spent in getting me into shape, and when I called on the ladies in the evening I vow they didn't recognize me. Took me for a sure-enough Indian, and thinking I didn't understand English, I suppose, passed remarks on my appearance.
"'Isn't he a guy?' said Miss Edith.