tribesmen; for, despairing of his return, they mustered for the election
of a new chief. Party strife ran high. Some were for a boy, his son, and
some for an ambitious kinsman. Outina chafed in his prison on learning
these dissentions; and, eager to convince his over-hasty subjects that
their chief still lived, he was so profuse of promises that he was again
embarked and carried up the river.

At no great distance from Lake George, a small affluent of the St.
John's gave access by water to a point within six French leagues of
Outina's principal town. The two barges, crowded with soldiers, and
bearing also the captive Outina, rowed up this little stream. Indians
awaited them at the landing, with gifts of bread, beans, and fish, and
piteous prayers for their chief, upon whose liberation they promised an
ample supply of corn. As they were deaf to all other terms, Laudonniere
yielded, released his prisoner, and received in his place two hostages,
who were fast bound in the boats. Ottigny and Arlac, with a strong
detachment of arquebusiers, went to receive the promised supplies, for
which, from the first, full payment in merchandise had been offered. On
their arrival at the village, they filed into the great central lodge,
within whose dusky precincts were gathered the magnates of the tribe.
Council-chamber, forum, banquet-hall, and dancing-hall all in one, the
spacious structure could hold half the population. Here the French made
their abode. With armor buckled, and arquebuse matches lighted, they
watched with anxious eyes the strange, dim scene, half revealed by the
daylight that streamed down through the hole at the apex of the roof.
Tall, dark forms stalked to and fro, with quivers at their backs, and
bows and arrows in their hands, while groups, crouched in the shadow
beyond, eyed the hated guests with inscrutable visages, and malignant,
sidelong eyes. Corn came in slowly, but warriors mustered fast. The
village without was full of them. The French officers grew anxious, and