eyes, and they were ablaze with fire.

"My people slew him," he cried. "By the shades of my fathers, a score
shall keep him company as slaves in the Great Hunting-ground."

"Talk no more of blood," I said. "He was amply avenged. 'Twas I who
slew him, for he died to save me. He made a Christian end, and I will
not have his memory stained by more murders. But oh, Shalah, what a man
died yonder!"

He made me tell every incident of the story, and he cried out,
impassive though he was, at the sword-play in the neck of the gorge.

"I have seen it," he cried. "I have seen his bright steel flash and men
go down like ripe fruit. Tell me, brother, did he sing all the while,
as was his custom? Would I had been by his side!"

Then he told me of what had befallen at the stockade.

"The dead man told me a tale, for by the mark on his forehead I knew
that he was of my own house. When you and the Master had gone I went
into the woods and picked up the trail of our foes. I found them in a
crook of the hills, and went among them in peace. They knew me, and my
word was law unto them. No living thing will come near the stockade
save the wild beasts of the forest. Be at ease in thy mind, brother."

The news was a mighty consolation, but I was still deeply mystified.

"You speak of your tribe. But these men were no Senecas."