"All ready, genl'em," exclaimed Rachel; "you can fall to when you like."
The party got up, and we took our seats at the table. Clarice, who until a short time before had been assisting Rachel, now returned—having been away to arrange her toilet. She took her usual seat at the head of the table; and the lieutenant, to his evident satisfaction, found himself placed near her. He spoke in a pleasant, gentlemanly tone, and treated Clarice in every respect as a young lady,—as, indeed, she was. He now and then addressed me; and the more he said, the more I felt inclined to like him.
Uncle Jeff had a good deal of conversation with Sergeant Custis, who appeared to be a superior sort of person, and had, I suspect, seen better days.
We were still seated at supper when the door opened and an Indian stalked into the room, decked with war-paint and feathers, and rifle in hand.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed, stopping and regarding us, as if unwilling to advance without permission.
"Come in, friend," said Uncle Jeff, rising and going towards him; "sit down, and make yourself at home. You would like some food, I guess?"
The Indian again uttered a significant "Ugh!" as, taking advantage of Uncle Jeff's offer, he seated himself by the fire.
"Why, uncle," exclaimed Clarice, "it is Winnemak!"
But I must explain how Clarice came to know the Indian, whom, at the first moment, no one else had recognized.