The medicine men say not so. Their omens foretell great victories, David.”
“That we shall see, O Sequanawah. But I grieve that this thing must come between my brother and me.”
The Wachoosett bowed again and looked troubled. “Sequanawah sorrows, too, O David. His heart is sad.” He emptied his pipe and arose. “Farewell, brother.”
“So soon, Sequanawah? You take the trail to-night?”
“I know not at what hour, but ere morning I shall be gone. Farewell.”
Sequanawah turned and departed against the lingering glow of the sunset and passed from David’s sight. The old squaw grumbled that his food was ready and he bade her bring it forth to him there. While he ate, the preparations for leaving went forward busily, and presently, as twilight came, a great fire flared before the sachem’s lodge and more drums beat, and painted braves, feathered and grotesque in the dancing light of the flames, circled and howled and groaned and shook their spears to the purpling, star-pricked sky.
