"Dog! base son of the noble chief Allomaug! youth with the red face and the white heart! serpent with the forked tongue! the Great Spirit has given it to Waughtauk that he should inflict on you the death that is fitting all such."
These were fierce words, but the absolute fury of manner which marked their utterance showed how burning was the hate of the Wyandot leader and his warriors. They knew that this youth had been honored and trusted as no one of his years had ever been honored and trusted by his tribe, and his treachery was therefore all the deeper, and deserving of the worst punishment that could be devised.
Deerfoot, standing on one foot, with his hand grasping a sapling at his side, looked calmly in the face of the infuriated leader, and in his low, musical voice, said—
"When Deerfoot was sick almost to death, his white brother took the place of the father and mother who went to the happy hunting grounds long ago; Deerfoot would have been a dog, had he not helped his white brother through the forest, when the bear and the panther and the Wyandot were in his path."
This defence, instead of soothing the chieftain, seemed to arouse all the ferocity of his nature. His face fairly shone with flame through his ochre and paint; and striding toward the prisoner, he raised his hand with such fierceness that the muscles of the arm rose in knots and the veins stood out in ridges on temple and forehead.
As he threw his fist aloft and was on the point of smiting Deerfoot to the earth, the latter straightened up with his native dignity, and, still grasping the sapling and still standing on one foot, looked him in the eye.
It was as if a great lion-tamer, hearing the stealthy approach of the wild beast, had suddenly turned and confronted him.
Waughtauk paused at the moment, his fist was in the air directly over the head of Deerfoot, glowering down upon him with an expression demoniac in its hate. He breathed hard and fast for a few seconds and then retreated without striking the impending blow.
But it must not be understood that it was the defiant look of the captive which checked the chief. It produced no such effect, nor was it intended to do so: it simply meant on the part of Deerfoot that he expected indignity and torture and death, and he could bear them as unflinchingly as Waughtauk himself.
As for the chieftain, he reflected that a little counsel and consultation were needed to fix upon the best method of putting this tormentor out of the way. If Waughtauk should allow his own passion to master him, the anticipated enjoyment would be lost.