“A talk,” came the curt reply.
“For what purpose?”
“We want to stop fighting.”
The proposal was agreeable as unexpected. What could it mean? Were the Indians starring, like ourselves, and tired of hostilities? It was probable enough: for what other reason should they desire to end the war so abruptly? They had not yet been defeated, but, on the contrary, victorious in every action that had been fought.
But one other motive could be thought of. We were every hour expecting the arrival of Clinch’s brigade. Runners had reached the camp to say that he was near, and, reinforced by it, we should be not only strong enough to raise the siege, but to attack the Indians with almost a certainty of defeating them. Perhaps they knew, as well as we, that Clinch was advancing, and were desirous of making terms before his arrival.
The proposal for a “talk” was thus accounted for by the commander-in-chief, who was now in hopes of being able to strike a decisive blow. His only apprehension was, that the enemy should retreat, before Clinch could get forward upon the field. An armistice would serve to delay the Indians upon the ground; and without hesitation, the distant speaker was informed that the talk would be welcome.
A meeting of parlementaires from each side was arranged; the hour, as soon as it should be light. There were to be three of the Indians, and three from the camp.
A small savanna extended from the stockade. At several hundred yards’ distance it was bounded by the woods. As soon as the day broke, we saw three men emerge from the timber, and advance into the open ground. They were Indian chiefs in full costume; they were the commissioners. All three were recognised from the camp—Abram, Coa Hajo, and Osceola.
Outside musket-range, they halted, placing themselves side by side in erect attitudes, and facing the inclosure.
Three officers, two of whom could speak the native tongue, were sent forth to meet them. I was one of the deputation.