A still greater surprise was in store for the Seminole chief and his
tribe.
The Indians stood as if petrified, when they came within eight of the
well-known hill.
Upon its table top, and visible for miles around, stood a frame mansion,
in all the glitter of fresh paint.
When Oluski first saw it, he uttered an exclamation of agonised anger,
at the same time clutching hold of Wacora's arm; but for its friendly
support he had fallen to the ground.
"Look, Wacora; look yonder! What is it we see?"
As he spoke, he passed his hands across his eyes to shade off the sun.
No; they had not deceived him; there was no glamour over them. The
sun's beams were shining brightly upon a house.
His nephew looked sadly into the old man's face, fervently pressing his
hand. He dared not trust himself to speak.
"And this is the act of a friend. So much for my blind faith in the
traitor's deceitful words. May the curse of the Great Spirit fall on
him and his!"