Then, turning to the sentry, he continued, his eyes flashing in their sockets. “Fool!” said he, “go with my message; the lives of hundreds may depend upon it. Tell your chief that I am here! Bring him instantly before me!”
The dignity of the old Indian’s manner struck the man with respect. Perhaps the nervous twitching of Wacora’s fingers about the handle of his tomahawk had also its effect.
Calling out to a comrade who was near, and placing him at the post, he hastened off towards the house.
The two Indians, without exchanging speech, patiently awaited his return.
There was evidently some commotion within the frame dwelling at the reception of the news, as several men, well armed, were observed hurrying off in different directions, and taking station along the line of the stockade.
Shortly after, the man who had been sent was seen coming back.
Throwing open the strong slab door, he beckoned the two chiefs to enter.
They did so; and then, leading them inside the block-house, the man told them there to await the governor’s arrival. It was not long delayed.
Elias Rody was seen coming forth from his new mansion, followed by five or six stalwart settlers.
All save himself carried rifles.