At the same moment, the blows of both the combatants were
suspended, though by the agency of very different degrees of force. Mark
felt the arms of one cast around his limbs, with a power sufficient to
embarrass, though not to subdue him, while the well-known voice of
Whittal Ring sounded in his ears--
"Murder the lying and hungry Pale-faces! They leave us no food but air--no
drink but water!"
On the other hand, when the chief turned in anger, to strike the daring
one who presumed to arrest his arm, he saw at his feet the kneeling
figure, the uplifted hands, and agonized features, of Martha. Averting the
blow that a follower already aimed at the life of the suppliant, he spoke
rapidly in his own language, and pointed to the struggling Mark. The
nearest Indians cast themselves on the already half-captured youth. A
whoop brought a hundred more to the spot, and then a calm as sudden, and
almost as fearful, as the previous tumult, prevailed in the orchard. It
was succeeded by the long-drawn, frightful, and yet meaning yell by which
the American warrior proclaims his victory.
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