"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." Then, turning to the sentry, he continued, his eyes flashing in their sockets. "Fool!" said he, "go with my message; the lives of hundreds may depend upon it. Tell your chief that I am here! Bring him instantly before me!" The dignity of the old Indian's manner struck the man with respect. Perhaps the nervous twitching of Wacora's fingers about the handle of his tomahawk had also its effect. Calling out to a comrade who was near, and placing him at the post, he hastened off towards the house. The two Indians, without exchanging speech, patiently awaited his return. There was evidently some commotion within the frame dwelling at the reception of the news, as several men, well armed, were observed hurrying off in different directions, and taking station along the line of the stockade. Shortly after, the man who had been sent was seen coming back. Throwing open the strong slab door, he beckoned the two chiefs to enter. They did so; and then, leading them inside the block-house, the man told them there to await the governor's arrival. It was not long delayed. Elias Rody was seen coming forth from his new mansion, followed by five or six stalwart settlers. All save himself carried rifles. The Indians stood still as statues. They made no movement to lessen the distance between themselves and the white men. At length Elias Rody and Oluski stood face to face. A close observer might have detected signs of fear in the governor's countenance. Despite his assumed boldness of bearing, he found it hard to look into the face of the man he had so cruelly wronged. It was he, however, who first broke the silence so painful to himself. "What does Oluski wish to say to me?" "What is the meaning of this?" asked the chief, pointing to the mansion as he spoke. "That is my new residence." "By what right have you built it on this ground?" "By the right of possession--bought and paid for?" Oluski started as if a shot had struck him. "Bought and paid for? Dog of a liar! What do you mean?"