"Wal, then, I'll bet a 'possum skin agin a musk rat's that he's right. Your chief, Wacora, is as likely an Injun at reck'nin up the merits o' a case as this coon knows on. Now you've missed liftin' my scalp, what do you intend doin'?" "Go on looking for the chief who stole Oluski's heart, find him, and kill him." The glance that accompanied these words was full of deadly determination. "Wal, go, and good luck attend you. Don't ask me to jine you, I tell you I ain't no man-hunter nor never will be; only, if either of them thar scamps should be out walkin' whar I chance to be, they had better have met with a mad bar than this Cris Carrol. Never mind sayin' a word about that bad shot o' yourn. The moment I seed you I knowed you didn't mean it for me, only next time be more partiklar, that's all." Without making reply, Maracota turned away, and was soon lost under the shadows of the forest. As soon as he was out of sight, the old hunter renewed his preparations for a smoke. Drawing from his pouch (which seemed to contain everything that the heart of a hunter could desire) another pipe, he was soon once more sending clouds of blue smoke up into the air. "If that Maracota meets Warren Rody or Crookleg he'll be an awkward customer to either or both on 'em; and that he may meet 'em he has Cris Carrol's best prayers and wishes." With this homely but sincere expression of his desires, the backwoodsman ceased to think of the deadly danger lately threatening himself. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. PREPARING FOR THE ATTACK. The Indians had, at length, determined upon making an attack upon Elias Rody's stronghold. The governor had got wind of their intention through a spy, a slave belonging to the tribe, who had turned informer through his seductive offers. A meeting of the settlers within the stockade was at once called. "Fellow citizens," said Rody, addressing them, "I have received some information that our enemies have resolved upon attacking us. It is my duty to tell you this in order that every man may be prepared to defend himself and his family. One thing I would have you remember; this war will be one of extermination; therefore be careful not to waste a bullet. Let every pull upon your trigger send an Indian to his long account. Let the cry be `no quarter!'" "Perhaps that'll be their motto too," remarked a voice in the crowd. "I perceive, sir," replied Rody, a little nettled at the running commentary on his speech, "I perceive that there are still one or two dissatisfied people amongst us. Let them step forward, and declare themselves. _We_ want neither renegades or traitors in our midst." "That's so," the voice replied. "Again I say, let those displeased with my views step boldly out, and allow me to answer any objections they may raise. I've done nothing I am ashamed of. I blush for nothing that I do." "No, you're past blushing!" was the ironical rejoinder.