“I am very unwilling to desert you,” said the lieutenant; “but, under the circumstances, if you will confide your niece to my care, with her attendant, I will undertake to escort them to the Indian camp, where the chief’s daughter is ready to receive her. Indeed, the Indian girl proposed this herself, and seemed to be aware of what her father had advised you to do.”
While we were talking, I observed that the stranger was listening, and apparently doing his best to take in what we said. Though he was a handsome young fellow, yet, as I before remarked, I did not like the expression of his countenance; it now struck me that it had a cunning, sinister look. Whenever he saw my eyes directed towards him, he turned away, and appeared to be thinking only of the food he was eating.
I have elsewhere alluded to my talent as an artist. While Winnemak was with us, I had made a tolerably fair portrait of him; indeed, it was considered a good likeness, and was hung up against the wall. As Piomingo was passing it, I saw him start in a way an Indian seldom does; and he then stood gazing earnestly at it for a minute or more.
“Who is that man?” he asked, pointing to the portrait.
I told him.
“Ah, bad man!” he muttered; “take care what he do.”
“We think him a good man; he is a friend of ours.”
He shook his head, but said nothing more. After this, instead of lying down, he stole near to where Uncle Jeff, the lieutenant, and I were talking; although, unless he knew English much better than he seemed to do, he could not have been any the wiser.
Uncle Jeff considered seriously the proposal made by Winnemak, and now repeated by the lieutenant.