"My brother has heard the song he wished to hear," said Panther, allowing a look of triumph to pass over his countenance. "It is pleasing to my brother. He will now go with my young men, and be free."
"I've no kind of objection to being free, in an honest sort of way," answered Ichabod; "but about that business you mentioned, I've been thinking that I've lived pretty nigh fifty years, and I never yet deceived a friend—nor an enemy either, except in a lawful manner—and I guess I won't begin now."
"What does my brother mean?" asked Panther, giving way to anger. "Does he mean to eat his own words? Does my brother mean to lie?"
"Lie!" exclaimed Ichabod. "You can use that word in perfect safety, while you are there and I am here: but you give me a fair chance, and I'd endeavor to teach you better manners. But the plain English of the thing is—I shan't go on that rascally errand, any way."
"My brother is a great warrior," said Panther. "He is cunning as a fox. He knows it well; but if my brother refuses to go, we will try and see how brave he is."
"If that means tortur' or anything of that sort," said Ichabod, quietly, "all I've got to say is, bring it on. I don't know whether I can stand all of your villainous inventions or not, and I ra'ally don't want to know; but if that is your mind, I'll acquiesce, of course, seeing I can't help it."
"We leave our brother to his thoughts," said Panther. "He is brave, and will think it over, and be braver by-and-bye. We will let our brother know when we are ready."
So saying, the two Indians left the hut; and Ichabod, with a mind somewhat ill at ease, at the prospect before him, endeavored to follow the advice of the Senecas—although given by them for a contrary object—and gain strength of purpose by reflection.