He frowned, then seemed to debate, and his face cleared at last.

Raising a spear, he saluted the French leaders, and then pointed towards the shore, where there was a space clear of trees, a kind of plateau.

De Troyes and Iberville, thinking that a truce and parley were meant, returned the salute with their swords, and presently the canoes of both parties made over to the shore.
It was a striking sight: the grave, watchful faces of the Indians, who showed up grandly in the sun, their skin like fine rippling bronze as they moved; their tall feathers tossing, rude bracelets on their wrists, while some wore necklets of brass or copper.

The chief was a stalwart savage with a cruel eye, but the most striking figure of all--either French or Indian--was that of the chief's body guard.

He was, indeed, the Goliath of the tribe, who, after the manner of other champions, was ever ready for challenge in the name of his master.