He drew Oluski towards him, and stood erect and proud in the consciousness of right before the trembling usurper and his adherents.
The aged chief had recovered himself while his nephew was speaking.
“What Wacora has said is good, and he only utters my own thoughts. I came here ready to receive atonement for the wrong done me and my people. I now see that there is a darker depth of treachery in you, even than this which has robbed a confiding man of his best-loved possession. I, Oluski, the Seminole, spit at and despise you! I have spoken!”
With a kingly dignity the old chief folded his blanket around him, and leaning on his nephew’s arm, slowly departed from the spot.
Rody and his followers, as if transfixed by the withering contempt with which the Indians had treated, them, suffered the two to depart without molestation.
They now redoubled their watchfulness, stationed additional sentinels around the stockade, and looked after the arms and ammunition, with which they would, no doubt, have to defend the usurped possession.
The small cloud that had been slowly gathering over the settlement was growing dark and portentous. The soft breeze was rapidly rising to a storm.
The people of the settlement, alarmed by the news of the interview between Rody and the Indian chief’s, which spread rapidly among them, hastened to take measures for the safety of their families. The women and children were hurriedly brought in from the outlying plantations, and lodged in temporary abodes within the stockade, whilst provisions in plenty were carried to the same place.
The war signal had sounded, and before long the work of carnage would commence!