"Does my son see spirits in the air?" he asked hastily.
"No, they live; they are bound for the torments. In the white head, is he
who talked much with his God. The elder chief, who struck our young men so
hard, was then also a captive in this lodge. He who spoke, and she, who
seems even paler than her race, died that night; and yet are they now
here! Even the brave youth, that was so hard to conquer, looks like a boy
that was in the fire! The Yengeese deal with unknown Gods; they are too
cunning for an Indian!"
Philip heard this strange tale, as a being educated in superstitious
legends would be apt to listen; and yet it was with a leaning to
incredulity, that was generated by his fierce and indomitable desire for
the destruction of the hated race. He had prevailed, in the councils of
his nation, over many similar signs of the supernatural agency that was
exercised in favor of his enemies, but never before had facts so imposing
come so directly and from so high a source before his mind. Even the proud
resolution and far-sighted wisdom of this sagacious chief were shaken by
such testimony, and there was a single moment when the idea of abandoning
a league that seemed desperate took possession of his brain.
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