the wood to bide there. But we had not gone far, when my old
qualms came back to me, and I thought, "Is it for me to dip my
hands in man's blood? Why should I kill those who have done me no
harm, and mean not to hurt me? Nay, who do not so much as know
that they are in the wrong, when they hold these feasts. Are not
their ways a sign that God has left them (with the rest of their
tribe) to their own dull hearts? God did not call me to be a
judge for Him. He who said, 'Thou shalt not kill,' said it for
me, as well as the rest of the world."

A throng of thoughts like these would rush on my mind, as if to
warn me to pause, till I felt sure that there was more to call me
to the work than I then knew of. I took my stand in the wood, to
watch the men at their feast, and then crept on, with Friday
close at my heels. Thus we went till we came to the skirts of
the wood. Then I said to. Friday, "Go up to the top of that tree,
and bring me word if you can see the men."

He went, and quick as thought, came back to say that they were
all round the fire, and that the man who was bound on the sand
would be the next they would kill. But when he told me that it
was a white man, one of my own race, I felt the blood boil in my
veins. Two of the gang had gone to loose the white man from his
bonds; so now was the time to fire.

At the sound of our guns, we saw all the men jump up from the
ground where they sat. It must have been the first gun the I had
heard in their lives. They knew not which way to look. I now
threw down my piece, and took up a small gun; Friday did the
same; and I gave him the word to fire! The men ran right and