But at this luckless
instant, when hope was beginning to assume the air of probability, a chief
came stalking through the horrible melee, seeking on each side some victim
for his uplifted axe. A crowd of the inferior herd pressed at his heels,
and a first glance told the assailed that the decisive moment had come.
At the sight of so many of their hated enemies still living, and capable
of suffering, a common and triumphant shout burst from the lips of the
Indians. Their leader, like one superior to the more vulgar emotions of
his followers, alone approached in silence. As the band opened and divided
to encircle the victims, chance brought him, face to face, with Mark. Like
his foe, the Indian warrior was still in the freshness and vigor of young
manhood. In stature, years and agility, the antagonists seemed equal; and,
as the followers of the chief threw themselves on the stranger and
Content, like men who knew their leader needed no aid, there was every
appearance of a fierce and doubtful struggle. But, while neither of the
combatants showed any desire to avoid the contest, neither was in haste to
give the commencing blow.
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