The old fort, as already said, was in a ruinous condition.
It had at one time been a stronghold of the Spaniards, but on their
quitting that part of the country, it had been suffered to fall into
decay.
Early in the morning succeeding Wacora's interview with Crookleg, two
persons stood conversing near the inner wall of the ruin.
They were Sansuta and Warren Rody.
The Indian girl had stolen from her father's house unnoticed by the few
early risers, and with cautious steps had gained the fort.
Warren's presence at such a distance from Tampa Bay, as well as
Crookleg's attendance upon him, were thus explained:--
"I am very grateful to you, Sansuta, for coming here to meet me."
"I am afraid I have done wrong."
"Wrong! What can you mean?"
"That I am deceiving my father, my kind father; but it is for the last
time."
"The last time?"
"Yes, I have determined that this shall be our last meeting. I could
not endure my father's reproaches, if he knew that I betrayed his
confidence."
"Do you doubt my love for you, Sansuta? Will it not make up for
Oluski's anger?"
"Warren!"
The reproachful tone in which Sansuta uttered his name, recalled young
Rody to himself.
He immediately changed his tactics.
"But why talk of Oluski's anger? Rather speak of my love. Surely you
do not doubt it?"
The Indian maiden heaved a sigh.
"Sansuta does not doubt you, but she is unhappy."
"Unhappy! Why?"
"Because an Indian girl would make but a poor wife to a white
gentleman."
A strange smile crossed the young man's face. He did not, however,
interrupt her.
"If Sansuta cared for you less, she would not have been here this
morning; she would not have seen you again."
"Come, come, dearest, you alarm yourself without reason. Need I tell
you how much I love you--how I have always loved you? Have we not grown
up together? What more natural than love like mine?"
"But your father--"
"He will not object. Why should he? Is he not Oluski's best friend?"
"Yes, they are friends, but still--"
Warren saw that the girl was nervous and alarmed. He lost no time in
reassuring her.
"And, after all, dearest, we need not tell them of our love until we are
sure of their consent. In the meantime, let us think only of ourselves.
You have not yet told me what I longed to hear."
"What is that?"
"The whispering assurance that your heart is mine?"
A painful struggle was evidently taking place in the maiden's breast.
Filial duty and self-reproach contended with that feeling, nurtured by
the soft blandishments of the scoundrel by her side.
In such a contest love is always the victim.
This case was not exceptional. Softly murmuring the young man's name,
Sansuta hid her head upon his shoulder.
His arm enclasped her waist.
The confession had been made. The die was cast!
They were both startled by a sound heard near. It was like some one
sighing.
Warren, with the eye of a lynx, searched among the weeds and wild vines,
and pierced through the foliage on all sides, but saw nothing.
Reassuring her with honeyed words, he then led the girl away from the
spot.
As soon as they had disappeared a man's form was seen standing upon the
place they had last occupied; while another was visible at no great
distance from it.
He who first made appearance seemed utterly bowed down with grief,
whilst a cloud black as night was visible on his brow. It was the
chief, Wacora!
With an angry and contemptuous action he flung some pieces of money to
the other who had followed him, and was the negro Crookleg.
"Begone! Wacora may use you for his revenge--you shall not witness his
grief. Begone!"
The black picked up the coins, grinned hideously and hobbled away.
Wacora stood for some time rapt in his own sad thoughts. Then, turning
his back upon the old fort, he retraced his steps to Oluski's dwelling.
The old chief found but a dull guest in his nephew during that and many
succeeding days.
He would sit for hours seemingly lost to all that was passing around
him.
Then starting up suddenly he would stride out of the dwelling with rapid
steps, pass out of the town, and on to the adjoining woods, plunging
into their depths, to emerge from them hours after, sullen and
abstracted as ever!
His anxiety to return to his own tribe seemed to have passed away; and
day by day he deferred his departure on the plea of some trivial excuse
of remaining.
He watched Sansuta's movements, however, with the jealous care a mother
might exercise over her infant child. Every look, word, and action
seemed to command the closest scrutiny.
The girl often trembled as she caught the young chief's eye gazing upon
her. His stern demeanour agitated her. She suspected that he knew her
secret; although neither by word or action did he betray the knowledge.
Oluski was amazed at his conduct. In their conversation there was a
renewed bitterness when they talked of the pale-faces and their actions.
It astonished the old Seminole chief. He could not understand the
sudden growth of such an unjust antipathy; therefore became more
reticent, and would sit for hours without exchanging a word with his
nephew.
Time passed in this manner until the period for the annual migration of
the tribe to Tampa Bay. To Oluski's surprise, Wacora signified his
intention to accompany them, and along with them he went.