of the stranger, and would give him the right of combat as a free man
and a brave. Is my brother ready to meet our young men in battle?"

I was about as fit to right as an old horse to leap a fence, but I had
the wit to see that my only hope lay in a bold front. At any rate, a
clean death in battle was better than burning, and my despair was too
deep to let me quibble about the manner of leaving this world.

"You see my condition," I said. "I am somewhat broken with travel and
wounds, but, such as I am, I am willing to meet your warriors. Send
them one at a time or in battalions, and I am ready for them."

It was childish brag, but I think I must have delivered it with some
spirit, for I saw approbation in his eye.

"When we fight, we fight not as butchers but as men-at-arms," he said.
"The brother of one of the dead will take on himself the cause of our
tribe. If he slay you, our honour is avenged. If he be slain, we save
you alive, and carry you with us as we march to the rising sun."

"I am content," I said, though I was very little content. What earthly
chance stood I against a lithe young brave, accustomed from his
childhood to war? I thought of a duel hand-to-hand with knives or
tomahawks, for I could not believe that I would be allowed to keep my
pistols. It was a very faint-hearted combatant who rose and staggered
after Onotawah into the clear morning. The cloudy weather had gone, and
the glen where we lay was filled with sun and bright colours. Even in
my misery I saw the fairness of the spectacle, and the cool plunge of
the stream was grateful to my throbbing eyes.