"Well?" Gleazen reiterated, still more angrily.
"The war has razed his village to the ground."
Matterson now stepped forward and looked closely into the negro's face. Gleazen followed him.
"He laid down eight slave money," said O'Hara. "It was no good. They knew he was our friend. His wives, his children, his old father, all are dead."
Now Matterson spoke in the same strange tongue, slowly and hesitantly, but so that the negro understood him and answered him.
"He says," O'Hara translated, "that Bull built the house on the king's grave, and they feared him, because he is a terrible man; and because they feared him they left him alone in his house and brought the war to his friend, Kaw-tah-bah. Kaw-tah-bah's people are slaves. His wives, his children, his old father, all are dead. But he did not betray the secret."
Again Matterson spoke and again the negro answered.
"He says," cried O'Hara, "that Bull is waiting there on the hill by the king's grave."
The negro suddenly uttered a low exclamation.
Standing as still as so many statues, we heard yet again that faint, unearthly wail far off in the night, a wail, as before, twice repeated. The third cry had scarcely died away, when the negro, with a startled gasp, darted into the brush.