at the spot all the buildings were finished, and the interior arrangements almost completed.
In the centre of the colony, on an elevation made for the purpose, a species of octagonal tower, about seventy feet in height, was erected, of which the roof was flat, and which was divided into three storeys. At the bottom were the kitchen and offices, while the upper rooms were allotted to the members of the family, that is to say, the Captain and his lady, the two nursemaids, young and hearty Kentuckians, with rosy and plump cheeks, called Betsy and Emma; Mistress Margaret, the cook, a respectable matron entering on her ninth lustre, though she only confessed to five-and-thirty, and still had some pretence to beauty, and, lastly, to Sergeant Bothrel. This tower was closed with a stout iron-lined door, and in the centre was a wicket to reconnoitre visitors.
About ten yards from the tower, and communicating with it by a subterraneous passage, were the log huts of the hunters, the workmen, the neatherds, and labourers.
After these, again came the stables and cow houses.
In addition, scattered here and there, were large barns and granaries intended to receive the produce of the colony.
But all these different buildings were arranged so as to be isolated, and so far from each other, that in the event of fire, the loss of one building need not absolutely entail that of the rest; several wells were also dug at regular distances, so as to have abundance of water, without the necessity of fetching it from the river.
In a word, we may say that the Captain, as an old experienced soldier, accustomed to all the tricks of border warfare, had taken the minutest precautions to avoid not merely an attack, but a surprise.
Three months had elapsed since the settlement of the Americans; this valley, hitherto uncultivated, and covered with forests, was now in great part ploughed up; clearings effected on a large scale had removed the forest more than a mile from the colony; all offered the image of prosperity and comfort at a spot where, so shortly before, the carelessness of the Redskins allowed nature to produce at liberty the small stock of fodder needed for their beasts.
Inside the colony, all offered the most lively and busy sight; while outside, the cattle pastured under the care of mounted and well-armed herds, and the trees fell beneath the blows of the axemen; inside, all the workshops were in full activity, long columns of smoke rose from the forges, the noise of hammers was mingled with the whirring of the saw; on the river bank, enormous piles of planks stood near others composed of fire-wood; several boats were tied up, and from time to time the shots of the hunters could be heard, who were carrying out a battue in the woods in order to stock the colony with deer-meat.
It was about four in the afternoon, and the Captain, mounted on a magnificent black horse, with four white stockings, was ambling across a freshly-cleared prairie.
A smile of quiet satisfaction played over the old soldier's stern face at the sight of the prodigious change his will and feverish activity had effected in so short a time on this unknown corner of earth, which must, however, in no remote future, acquire a great commercial importance, owing to its position; he was approaching the colony, when a man, hitherto hidden behind a pile of roots and bushes heaped up to dry, suddenly appeared at his side.
The Captain repressed a start of anger on perceiving this man, in whom he recognised Monkey-face.
We will say here a few words about this man, who is destined to play a rather important part in the course of our narrative.
Itsichaichè was a man of forty, tall, and well proportioned; he had a crafty face, lit up by two little gimlet eyes; his vulture-beaked nose, his wide mouth, with its thin and retiring lips, gave him a cunning and ugly look, which, in spite of the cautious and cat-like obsequiousness of his manner, and the calculated gentleness of his voice, inspired those whom accident brought in contact with him with an impulsive repugnance which nothing could overcome.
Contrary to the usual state of things, the habit of seeing him, instead of diminishing, and causing this unpleasant feeling to disappear, only increased it.
He had conscientiously and honestly performed his contract in leading the Americans, without any obstacle, to the spot they wished to reach; but, since that period, he had remained with them, and had, so to speak, foisted himself on the colony, when he came and went as he pleased, and no one paid any attention to his actions.
At times, without saying anything, he would disappear for several days, then suddenly return, and it was impossible to obtain any information from him as to where he had been and what he had been doing during his absence.
Still, there was one person to whom the Indian's gloomy face constantly caused a vague terror, and who had been unable to overcome the repulsion with which he inspired her, although she could give no explanation of the feeling: this person was Mrs. Watt. Maternal love produces clearsightedness: the young lady adored her children, and when at times the Redskin by chance let a careless glance fall on the innocent creatures, the poor mother shivered in all her limbs, and she hastily withdrew from the sight of the man the two beings who were all in all to her.
At times she tried to make her husband share her fears, but to all her remarks the Captain merely replied by a significant shrug of his shoulders, supposing that with time this feeling would wear off and disappear. Still, as Mrs. Watt constantly returned to the charge with the obstinacy and perseverance of a person whose ideas are positively formed and cannot change, the Captain, who had no cause or plausible reason to defend against the wife he loved and respected, a man for whom he did not profess the slightest esteem, at length promised to get rid of him. As, moreover, the Indian had been absent from the colony for several days, he determined immediately on his return to ask for an explanation of his mysterious conduct, and if the other did not reply in a plain and satisfactory manner, to tell him that he would not have him any longer about the settlement, and the sooner he took himself off the better for all parties.
Such was the state of the Captain's feelings toward Monkey-face, when accident brought him across his path at the moment he least expected him.
On seeing the Indian, the Captain checked his horse.
"Is my father visiting the valley?" the Pawnee asked.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Oh!" the Indian went on as he looked around him, "All has greatly changed since the beasts of the Long Knives of the West have been grazing peacefully on the territories of which they dispossessed the Snake Pawnees."
The Indian uttered these words in a sad and melancholy voice, which caused the Captain some mental anxiety.
"Is that a regret you are giving vent to, Chief?" he asked him. "If so, it seems to me very unsuitable from your lips, since it was you who sold me the territory I occupy."
"That is true," the Indian said with a shake of his head. "Monkey-face has no right to complain, for it was he who sold to the Palefaces of the West the ground where his fathers repose, and where he and his brothers so often hunted the elk and the jaguar."
"Hum, Chief, I find you very sad to-day; what is the matter with you? Did you, on waking this morning find yourself lying on your left side?" he said, alluding to one of the most accredited superstitions among the Indians.
"No," he continued, "the sleep of Monkey-face was exempt from evil omens, nothing arrived to alter the calmness of his mind."
"I congratulate you, Chief."
"My father will give tobacco to his son, in order that he may smoke the calumet of friendship on his return."
"Perhaps so, but first I have a question to ask of you."
"My father can speak, his son's ears are open."
"It is now a long time, Chief," the Captain continued, "since we have been established here."
"Yes, the fourth moon is beginning."
"Since our arrival, you have left us a great many times without warning us."
"Why should I do so? Air and space do not belong to the Palefaces, I suppose; the Pawnee warrior is at liberty to go where he thinks proper; he was a renowned Chief in his tribe."
"All that may be true, Chief, and I do not care about it; but what I do care about is