The White Squaw

In such a contest love is always the victim.

This case was not exceptional. Softly murmuring the young man’s name, Sansuta hid her head upon his shoulder.

His arm enclasped her waist.

The confession had been made. The die was cast!

They were both startled by a sound heard near. It was like some one sighing.

Warren, with the eye of a lynx, searched among the weeds and wild vines, and pierced through the foliage on all sides, but saw nothing.

Reassuring her with honeyed words, he then led the girl away from the spot.

As soon as they had disappeared a man’s form was seen standing upon the place they had last occupied; while another was visible at no great distance from it.

He who first made appearance seemed utterly bowed down with grief, whilst a cloud black as night was visible on his brow. It was the chief, Wacora!

With an angry and contemptuous action he flung some pieces of money to the other who had followed him, and was the negro Crookleg.

“Begone! Wacora may use you for his revenge – you shall not witness his grief. Begone!”

The black picked up the coins, grinned hideously and hobbled away.

Wacora stood for some time rapt in his own sad thoughts. Then, turning his back upon the old fort, he retraced his steps to Oluski’s dwelling.

The old chief found but a dull guest in his nephew during that and many succeeding days.

He would sit for hours seemingly lost to all that was passing around him.

Then starting up suddenly he would stride out of the dwelling with rapid steps, pass out of the town, and on to the adjoining woods, plunging into their depths, to emerge from them hours after, sullen and abstracted as ever!

His anxiety to return to his own tribe seemed to have passed away; and day by day he deferred his departure on the plea of some trivial excuse of remaining.

He watched Sansuta’s movements, however, with the jealous care a mother might exercise over her infant child. Every look, word, and action seemed to command the closest scrutiny.

The girl often trembled as she caught the young chief’s eye gazing upon her. His stern demeanour agitated her. She suspected that he knew her secret; although neither by word or action did he betray the knowledge.

Oluski was amazed at his conduct. In their conversation there was a renewed bitterness when they talked of the pale-faces and their actions. It astonished the old Seminole chief. He could not understand the sudden growth of such an unjust antipathy; therefore became more reticent, and would sit for hours without exchanging a word with his nephew.

Time passed in this manner until the period for the annual migration of the tribe to Tampa Bay. To Oluski’s surprise, Wacora signified his intention to accompany them, and along with them he went.

Chapter Nineteen.

A Changed Scene

A still greater surprise was in store for the Seminole chief and his tribe.

The Indians stood as if petrified, when they came within eight of the well-known hill.

Upon its table top, and visible for miles around, stood a frame mansion, in all the glitter of fresh paint.

When Oluski first saw it, he uttered an exclamation of agonised anger, at the same time clutching hold of Wacora’s arm; but for its friendly support he had fallen to the ground.

“Look, Wacora; look yonder! What is it we see?”

As he spoke, he passed his hands across his eyes to shade off the sun.

No; they had not deceived him; there was no glamour over them. The sun’s beams were shining brightly upon a house.

His nephew looked sadly into the old man’s face, fervently pressing his hand. He dared not trust himself to speak.

“And this is the act of a friend. So much for my blind faith in the traitor’s deceitful words. May the curse of the Great Spirit fall on him and his!”

Wacora added – “Yes; may both be accursed!”

Then drawing his uncle away from the contemplation of the painful sight, he conducted him to a neighbouring grove of oaks; the tribe halting near the spot.

A council of the chief men was instantly called, and a plan of action resolved on.

Oluski and Wacora were commissioned to visit the white settlement, and demand the reason of this scandalous usurpation.

The Indians proceeded no farther.

That night they encamped upon the spot where they had halted, and early the next morning the two chiefs departed on their mission.

As they approached the hill another surprise awaited them.

Surrounding it was a strong wooden stockade, with substantially built block-houses at regular distances from each other. Behind the palisading men were seen, as if watching the approach, and ready to receive them in a hostile manner.

“See!” cried Wacora, “they are prepared for our reception. The robbers have determined to maintain themselves in their stolen possession.”

“Yes, yes! I see. But let us not act rashly. We will first make an appeal in the name of justice. If they refuse that, then we must prove ourselves worthy the blood in our veins! worthy of our ancestors! Oh, I would rather be lying among them in yonder graveyard than that this should have arisen! The fault has been mine, and upon me let fall the punishment. Come on!”

They reached the central block-house, and were summoned to a halt by one of the settlers, who, gun in hand, stood by the entrance.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Oluski answered —

“White man, go tell your governor that Oluski, the Seminole chief, would speak with him.”

The sentinel answered sharply —

“The governor is not here. He is at his house, and cannot be disturbed.”

Wacora’s hand clutched his tomahawk. Oluski perceiving the act, laid hold of his nephew’s arm.

“Patience, Wacora, patience! The time for bloodshed will come soon enough. For my sake be patient.”