"Does my brother again wish to know what I see?" he demanded, when
sufficient time had passed, after the unanswered question of the female,
to show that his companion was not disposed to answer.
"What does the Sachem of the Wampanoags now behold?" returned Conanchet,
proudly; unwilling to show that any circumstance had occurred to interrupt
the subject of their conference.
"A sight that his eyes will not believe. He sees a great tribe on the
war-path. There are many braves, and a chief whose fathers came from the
clouds. Their hands are in the air; they strike heavy blows; the arrow is
swift, and the bullet is not seen to enter, but it kills. Blood runs from
the wounds that is of the color of water. Now he does not see, but he
hears! 'Tis the scalp-whoop, and the warriors are very glad. The chiefs in
the happy hunting-grounds are coming, with joy, to meet Indians that are
killed; for they know the scalp-whoop of their children."
The expressive countenance of the young Sachem involuntarily responded to
this description of the scene through which he had just passed; and it was
impossible for one so tutored, to prevent the blood from rushing faster to
a heart that ever beat strongly with the wishes of a warrior.
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