"I tell you it is I, and not you, who have to pay," returned the squire.
"Has my daughter bid farewell to her foster-father?" said the Indian to Rosa, who had listened to this dialogue with some uneasiness. "Rosa must leave the wigwam of the white men; the Miko's path is a long one, and his spirit is weary of the palefaces."
"And must the Miko go?" said Rosa. "Oh! father of my Canondah! remain here; the white men will love thee as a brother."
The Indian looked at her with astonishment.
"What means the White Rose?" said he,—"the palefaces love Tokeah? Has the White Rose——?" He paused, and surveyed her gloomily and suspiciously. "Tokeah," continued he, at last, "is very weary of the white men; he will be gone."
"Miko," said Rosa, timidly—for it was evident that the chief was still in error as to the motive of her visit—"Rosa has come to beg you to remain a while with the white men; but if you must go, she will"——
"The Miko is the father of his people," interrupted Tokeah; "they call him; he must go, and the Rose of the Oconees shall also be the Rose of the Comanches, the squaw of a great chief."
The young girl blushed, and stepped back.
"Miko," said she, "you are the beloved father of my dear Canondah; you saved my life and maintained me, and I thank you heartily; but, Miko, I cannot, I must not, do as you wish. I no longer belong to you, but to my father, my long-lost father."
"Rosa speaks truth—she belongs to her father," said the Miko, not yet undeceived; "my daughter's feet are weak, but she shall sit in a canoe till she reaches the wigwams of the Pawnees, and they have many horses."