"Who did it?" asked Black Eagle, gravely and calmly.
"The Woodchuck," answered the woman; "he did it. I know his face too well."
"Believe her not," rejoined Otaitsa. "The Woodchuck was ever a friend of our nation. He is our brother. He would not slay an Oneida."
"But he was my brother's enemy," answered the woman; "there was vengeance between them."
"Vengeance on thy brother's part," retorted the old chief; "more likely he to slay the Woodchuck, than the Woodchuck to slay him."
"If she have a witness, let her bring him forward," said Otaitsa. "We will believe her by the tongue of another."
"I have none," cried the woman, vehemently. "I have none; but I saw him kill my brother with my own eyes, and I cry for his blood."
"Didst thou not say that there were two white men with him?" asked Otaitsa, raising up her right hand. "Then in this thou hast lied to the Sachem and thy brethren, and who shall say whether thou speakest the truth now?"
A curious sort of drowsy hum ran round the circle of the Indians; and one old man said--"She has spoken well."
The woman in the meanwhile stood silent and abashed, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; and the Black Eagle said, in a grave tone,