 out their scouts. They have been in
my wigwams, but they found there no one to say welcome. Then they fled to the
Delawares - for say they, the Delawares are our friends; their minds are turned
from their Canada father!«
    This insinuation was a home thrust, and one that, in a more advanced state
of society, would have entitled Magua to the reputation of a skilful
diplomatist. The recent defection of the tribe had, as they well knew
themselves, subjected the Delawares to much reproach among their French allies,
and they were now made to feel that their future actions were to be regarded
with jealousy and distrust. There was no deep insight, into causes and effects,
necessary to foresee that such a situation of things was likely to prove highly
prejudicial to their future movements. Their distant villages, their hunting
grounds, and hundreds of their women and children, together with a material part
of their physical force, were actually within the limits of the French
territory. Accordingly, this alarming annunciation was received, as Magua
intended, with manifest disapprobation, if not with alarm.
    »Let my father look in my face,« said Le-coeur-dur; »he will see no change.
It is true, my young men did not go out on the war-path; they had dreams for not
doing so. But they love and venerate the great white chief.«
    »Will he think so, when he hears that his greatest enemy is fed in the camp
of his children! When he is told, a bloody Yengee smokes at your fire! That the
pale-face, who has slain so many of his friends, goes in and out among the
Delawares! Go - my great Canada Father is not a fool!«
    »Where is the Yengee that the Delawares fear!« returned the other; »who has
slain my young men! who is the mortal enemy of my Great Father!«
    »La Longue Carabine.«
    The Delaware warriors started at the well known name, betraying, by their
amazement, that they now learnt, for the first time, one so famous among the
Indian allies of France, was within their power.
    »What does my brother mean?« demanded Le-coeur-dur, in a tone that, by its
wonder, far exceeded the usual apathy of his race.
    »A Huron never lies,« returned Magua, coldly, leaning his head against the
side of the lodge, and drawing his slight robe across his tawny breast. »Let the
Delawares count their prisoners; they will find one
