"But your son?"
"My son will be saved if I die; you have sworn it upon the bones of your fathers."
"I have sworn it."
"Deliver me up to death, then."
"Are the women of your nation, then, like Indian squaws, who view torture without trembling?" the chief asked, with astonishment.
"Yes," she replied with great agitation; "all mothers despise it when the safety of their children is at stake."
"Listen," said the Indian, moved with involuntary pity; "I also have a mother whom I love; if you desire it, I will retard your punishment till sunset."
"What should you do that for?" she replied with terrible simplicity. "No, warrior; if my grief really touches you, there is one favour, one favour alone which you can grant me."
"Name it," he said earnestly.
"Put me to death immediately."