death?"

"Wampompeag and colored cloth are good, but Sassacus is a great chief,
and they cannot make him forget an injury. Before the white men came,
his ancestors punished and rewarded, and he will not surrender the
prerogative of his family."

"By the bones of my father," swore the soldier, "I will not permit
this cold-blooded murder. Hated I him ten-fold more than I do, I would
defend his life at the hazard of my own. Where is my gun?" he demanded
fiercely, seeking after it. "Who has dared to remove it?"

"Sassacus took it away, that his brother might do no mischief with
it," said the Pequot.

"False Indian!" exclaimed the soldier, passionately; "call me not
again your brother. I will have nothing to do with one whose promises
cannot bind, and who loves revenge more than honor."

"Sassacus never breaks his word, but, if he did, it would be only
imitating the white men. Would my brother speak to my prisoner, whom,
at this moment, he loves more than the justice of an Indian?"

"Why should I speak to him, when I should hear only curses?"

"Then remain here to behold the punishment of the bad white man."

He strode out of the lodge, while the soldier, burning with
indignation, disposed himself so that, unseen, he might notice all
that was done, and determined, unarmed as he was, to interpose.