he can wield. His eyes roll terribly, and upon his brow is a
strange scar shaped like a crescent--"

"Ay, ay, ay; and in his hair is one white tuft, which he has
braided with scarlet thread," interposed Charles, panting and
twitching in his excitement.

"That is the man--the most bloodthirsty fire eater of all the
Indian chiefs. Could the country but be rid of him, we might sleep
in our beds in peace once more, instead of lying shivering and
shaking at every breath which passes over the forest at night."

"Let us be gone!" cried Charles, shaking his knife in a meaning and
menacing fashion; "I thirst to be there when that man's record is
closed. Let me see his end; let me plunge my knife into his black
heart! There is another yet whom my vengeance must overtake; but
let me fall upon this one first."

"Was he one of the attacking party that desolated your homestead?"
asked Stark, as they moved along in the given direction, after a
brief pause for rest and refreshment.

"Ay, he was," answered Charles grimly. "I could not forget that
gigantic form, that mighty spear, that scar and the white tuft! He
stood by, and laughed at my frantic struggles, at the screams of
the children, at the agony of my gentle wife. A fiend from the pit
could not have been more cruel. But the hour is at hand when it
shall be done to him as he has done. His hand lighted the wood pile
they had set against the door of the house. Let him suffer a like
fate at our hands in the day of vengeance!"