of the countenance, no gesture, no line of the paint, nor even the fashion of a garment, unheeded, and without its secret comment.
At length, one whose hair was beginning to be sprinkled with gray, but whose sinewy limbs and firm tread announced that he was still equal to the arduous duties of manhood, advanced from out the gloom of a corner, whither he had probably posted himself to make his observations unseen, and spoke. He used the language of the Wyandots, or Hurons: his words were, consequently, unintelligible to Heyward, though they seemed, by the gestures that accompanied them, to be uttered more in courtesy than anger. The latter shook his head, and made a gesture indicative of his inability to reply.
"Do none of my brothers speak the French or the English?" he said, in the former language, looking about him, from countenance to countenance, in hopes of finding a nod of assent.
Though more than one head turned, as if to catch the meaning of his words, they remained unanswered.
