The sign could not be mistaken; it was the site of an Indian encampment. Elias Rody, as he turned from gazing on the panoramic view beneath, cast a glance of strange significance at these vestiges of the red-man's habitation. His features assumed a sharper cast, while a cloud came over his face. "But for them," he muttered, "my wishes would be accomplished, my desires fulfilled." What were his wishes? What his desires? Ask the covetous man such a question, and, if he answered truly, his answer would tell a tale of selfish aspirations. He would envy youth its brightness, old age its wisdom, virtue its content, love its joys, ay, even Heaven itself its rewards, and yet, in the narrow bigotry of egotism, think he only claimed his own. Elias Rody was a covetous man, and such were the thoughts at that moment in his mind. They were too bitter for silence, and vented themselves in words, which the winds alone listened to. "Why should these red-skins possess what I so deeply long for; and only for their short temporary enjoyment? I would be fair with them; but they wrap themselves up in their selfish obstinacy, and scorn my offers." How selfish others appear to a selfish man! "Why should they continue to restrain me? If gold is worth anything, surely it should repay them for what can be only a mere fancy. I shall try Oluski once again, and if he refuse--" Here the speaker paused. For some time he stood in contemplation, his eye roving over the distant view. As it again lighted upon the settlement a smile, not a pleasant one, curled his lip. "Well, there is time yet," said he, as if concluding an argument with himself. "I will once more try the golden bribe. I will use caution; but here will I build my house, come what may." This natural conclusion, to an egotistic mind, appeared satisfactory. It seemed to soothe him, for he strode down the hill with a springy, elastic step, more like that of a young man than one over whose head had passed sixty eventful years. CHAPTER THREE. ELIAS RODY. Whilst Elias Rody is pondering upon his scheme, let us tell the reader who he is. A Georgian, who began life without any fixed idea. His father, a wealthy merchant of Savannah, had brought him up to do nothing; and, until he had attained man's estate, he faithfully carried out his father's teaching. Like many Southern lads borne to competence, he could not appreciate the dignity of labour, and accordingly loitered through his youthful life, wasting both time and patrimony before discovering that idleness is a curse. At his father's death, which happened upon Elias reaching his twentieth year, all the worthy merchant's property descended to the son, and the idler suddenly found himself the possessor of a large sum of money with a sort of feeling that something was to be done with it. He accordingly spent it. Spent it recklessly, freely and rapidly, and then discovered that what he _had_ done was not the thing he _should_ have done.