But who was my enemy or enemies? and how could she have known of their design?
In order to ascertain this, I said to her:
“I have no enemy, Ewa; why should my life be in danger?”
“I tell you, pretty mico, it is—you have enemies. I-e-ela! you do not know it?”
“I never wronged a red man in my life.”
“Red—did I say red man? Cooree (boy), pretty Randolph, there is not a red man in all the land of the Seminoles that would pluck a hair from your head. Oh! if they did, what would say the Rising Sun? He would consume them like a forest fire. Fear not the red men—your enemies are not of that colour.”
“Ha! not red men? What, then?”
“Some white—some yellow.”
“Nonsense, Ewa! I have never given a white man cause to be my enemy.”
“Chepawnee (fawn) you are but a young fawn, whose mother has not told it of the savage beasts that roam the forest. There are wicked men who are enemies without a cause. There are some who seek your life, though you never did them wrong.”