It was the house of Elias Rody.
“I fear,” said the old chief, in a dreary voice, “my gift will prove fatal alike to him and me. When ambition enters the heart, honour and justice find no home therein. Our people cannot know that man in the past; they must judge him by his present. I would be generous—the Great Spirit knows that—but I must also be just. If I have raised angry feelings at this council, I have nothing to charge myself with; I did but my duty. May the white chief’s heart be turned from the covetous thoughts which fill it! Great Spirit, hear my prayer!”
With a natural and beautiful action, the aged Indian raised his hands in supplication to that Power alike cognisant of the thoughts of white and red.
Chapter Twelve.
The Situation.
Several days had elapsed since the meeting in the council-house.
The answer of the Seminole warriors had been conveyed to the white governor by Oluski himself.
The old chief couched the decision in kindly words mingled with regrets.