Speak! have you found him? "Yes, he is found." "I mean Warren Rody. Make no error, Maracota--tell me, is it Warren Rody you have found?" "He has been found." "Then all is well. Quick! bring him to me. Let me look upon this dog of a pale-face!" Maracota made no answer, but stood silent. "Do you hear me? Bring the dog before me. My eyes hunger for a sight of his craven countenance--I would see his white-livered face of fear-- watch his trembling frame as he stands in my presence!" Still Maracota did not speak. "By the Great Spirit, Maracota, why do you not go for him? Why do you not answer me?" "Maracota dreads your anger." "You an Indian warrior, and afraid. What do you mean?" "That I have disobeyed your commands--" "Ha! wretch! I understand. You found him, but he escaped." "Not that--" "What is it then? Speak, did he defy you? Was he too powerful? Then summon our warriors, and if it cost the life of every Indian in Florida I swear he shall be captured. Answer me or I shall do you mischief." "Maracota deserves punishment." The young chief, now fully aroused to anger, cast a significant look at his subordinate; he could scarce refrain from striking him to the ground, and it was with an effort that he resumed speech-- "No more mystery. Speak! where is he?" "Dead." Wacora made a bound towards the speaker, as he cried, "Did _you_ kill him?" "I did." Maracota fearlessly stood to await the stroke of the upraised tomahawk. It fell, but not on the Indian's skull. Wacora flung his weapon on the grass. "Wretch!" he cried, "you have robbed me of my revenge. May the arm that took that man's life hang palsied by your side for ever! May--oh, curse you--curse you!" Maracota's head fell upon his breast. He dared not meet his chief's angry glance--more dreaded than the blow of his hatchet. For some moments there was silence; whilst Wacora paced to and fro like a tiger in its cage. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. A SAD SPECTACLE. After a time the enraged chief, pausing in his steps, stood by the side of the silent warrior. "Tell me how it happened," he said, apparently becoming calmer. "Tell me all." Maracota related the circumstances as they had happened. "It was to save Nelatu's life that you fired upon the monster?" "It was." "And he--where is Nelatu?" "He is close by. See, they come this way." As Wacora looked in the direction indicated, he perceived his two cousins approaching. The beautiful maiden, now wan and sad, seemed absorbed in the contemplation of some wild flowers which she held in her hand. There were others wreathed in her hair. In this manner had she been conducted to the camp. Nelatu turned to his sister, put his arm in hers, and was about to lead her off, when a man rushed into the presence of the chief, crying out as he approached-- "Good news! The body of the white chief, Rody, has been found, and--" The warning gesture had been lost upon the impatient speaker.