guard in their vessels, Laudonniere and his company landed and proceeded in this quarter. He marched with caution, for he knew his enemy. His advance was conducted by Alphonse D’Erlach, his standard-bearer—one, whose experience and skill had been too frequently tried to leave it doubtful that his conduct would be a safe one. He had traversed the space before, and he knew the route thoroughly. The progress was urged with as much secrecy as caution. The cover of the woods was carefully maintained, the object of the party being a surprise. They well knew that Utina had but little expectation of seeing them, at this juncture, in his own abodes. None, so well as himself, knew how feeble was their condition, how little competent to any courageous enterprise. They succeeded in appearing at the village of the chief without provoking alarm. He himself was at home, sitting in state in the royal wigwam, with but few warriors about him. The fashion of the Indian, with less royal magnificence, in other words, with less art and civilization—is not greatly unlike that of the Turk. Olata Utina sat crossed legs upon a dais prepared of dressed skins of the deer, the bear and panther. The spotted hides hung over the raised portions of the seat which he kept, upon which also might be seen coverlets of cotton ingeniously manufactured, and richly stained with the bright crimson, scarlet, and yellow, of native dye-woods. This art of dyeing, the savages had brought to a comparatively high state of perfection. His house itself stood upon an artificial eminence of earth, raised in the very centre of his village, and overlooking it on every hand. It was an airy structure, with numerous openings, and the breeze played sweetly and capriciously among the coverlets which hung as curtains before the several places of egress and entrance. Utina himself was a savage of noble size and appearance. He carried himself with the ease and dignity of one born to the purple. His form, though an old man, was still unbending and tall. His countenance was one of great spirit and nobleness. With forehead equally large and high, with a dark eye that flashed with all the fires of youth, with lips that opened only to discourse in tones of a sweet but majestic eloquence, and with a shrewd sagacity, that made him, among a cunning people, a recognised master of all the arts of the serpent, he was necessarily a person to impress with respect and admiration those even who came with hostility.
It is probable that Utina knew nothing of the approach of the Frenchmen, until it was too late to escape them. But, before they entered the opened space assigned to the settlement, he was advised of their coming. Then it was that he threw aside his domestic habit and assumed his state. Then it was that he resumed his dignity and ascended the dais of stained cotton and flowing deer-skin. His turban of purple and yellow cotton was bound skilfully about his brow, his bow and quiver lay beside him, while at his feet was extended his huge macana, or war-club, which it scarcely seemed possible that his aged hands should now grasp with vigor sufficient for its formidable use. His hands, when the Frenchmen entered the dwelling, held nothing more formidable than the earthen pipe, and the long tubulated reed which he busied himself in inserting within the bowl. Two of his attendant warriors retired at the same moment. These, Laudonniere did not think proper to arrest, though counselled to do so by D’Erlach. He knew not that they had been despatched by the wily Paracoussi for the purpose of gathering his powers for resistance.
Laudonniere appeared in the royal wigwam with but ten companions. Forty others had been dispersed by D’Erlach at proper points around the village. Of their proximity the king knew nothing. His eye took in, at a single glance, the persons of his visitors; and a slight smile, that looked derisive, was seen to overspread his visage. It was with something like good humor in his tones that he gave them welcome. A page at the same time brought forth a basket of wicker-work, which contained a large collection of pipes of all sorts and sizes. Another basket afforded a sufficient quantity of dried leaves of the tobacco and vanilla. The Paracoussi nodded to his guests as the boy presented both baskets, and Laudonniere, with two others of his company, helped themselves to pipes and weed. Thus far nothing had been said but “Ami,” and “Bonjour.” The welcome of the Indians was simple always, and a word sufficed among them as amply as the most studied and verbose compliment. The French had learned to imitate them in this respect, to be sparing of words, and to restrain the expression of their emotions, particularly when these indicated want or suffering.
But the necessities of our Frenchmen were too great and pressing, at the present time, to be silenced wholly by convention; and when, as if in mockery, a small trencher of parched corn was set before them, with a vessel of water, the impatience of Laudonniere broke into utterance.
“Paracoussi Utina,” said he, “you have long known the want which has preyed upon our people.”
“My brother is hungry,” replied Utina, with a smile more full of scorn than sweetness—“let my brother eat. Let his young men eat. There is never famine among the people of Utina.”
“And if there be no want among the people of Utina, wherefore is it that he suffers the French to want? Why has he forgotten his allies? Did not my young men fight the battles of Utina against the warriors of the mighty Potanou? Did not many captives grace the triumph of Utina? Has the Paracoussi forgotten these services? Why does he turn away from his friends, and show himself cold to their necessities?”
“Why will my pale brother be talking?” said the other, with a most lordly air of indifference. “The people of Utina have fought against the warriors of Potanou for more than a hundred winters. My French brother is but a child in the land of the red-people. What does he know of the triumphs of my warriors? He saw them do battle once with the tribes of Potanou, and he makes account because he then fought on behalf of my people. My people have fought with the people of Potanou more than a hundred battles. Our triumphs have been witnessed by every bird that flies, every beast that runs, every fish that swims, between the villages of Potanou and the strong house of the Frenchman where he starves below. What more will our pale brother say, being thus a child among the red-men?”
“Why parley with the savage?” said Alphonse D’Erlach, “if you mean to take him? I care not for his insolence which chafes me nothing; but we lose time. You have suffered some of his warriors to depart. They are gone, doubtless, to gather the host together. We shall need all the time to carry our captive safely to the boats.”
These words were spoken aloud, directly in the rear of Utina, D’Erlach having taken a place behind him in the conference. The Paracoussi was startled by the language. Some of it was beyond his comprehension. But he could not misunderstand the tone and manner of the speaker. D’Erlach was standing above him, with his hand stretched over him, and ready to grasp his victim the moment the word should be spoken. His slight form and youthful features, contrasted with the cold, inflexible expression of his eyes and face, very forcibly impressed the imagination of the Indian monarch, as, turning at the interruption, he looked up at the person of the speaker. But, beyond the first single start which followed the interruption, Utina gave no sign of surprise or apprehension.