At a gesture from the commissioner, Omatla stepped forward to the table, and taking the pen in his hand, wrote his name upon the parchment.
The act was done in perfect silence. But one voice broke the deep stillness—one word only was heard uttered with angry aspirate; it was the word “traitor.”
I looked round to discover who had pronounced it; the hiss was still quivering upon the lips of Osceola; while his eye was fixed on Omatla with a glance of ineffable scorn.
“Black Crazy Clay” next took the pen, and affixed his signature, which was done by simply making his “mark.”
After him follower Ohala, Itolasse Omatla, and about a dozen—all of whom were known as the chiefs that favoured the scheme of removal.
The hostile chiefs—whether by accident or design I know not—stood together, forming the left wing of the semi-circle. It was now their turn to declare themselves.
Hoitle-mattee was the first about whose signing the commissioner entertained any doubt. There was a pause, significant of apprehension.
“It is your turn, Jumper,” said the latter at length, addressing the chief by his English name.
“You may jump me, then,” replied the eloquent and witty chief, making a jest of what he meant for earnest as well.
“How? you refuse to sign?”