“Proceed with your explanation,” interrupted Middleton.
“Ah! and a bloody and wicked sight it was. There I lay in a low bed of grass, as two of the hunters came nigh each other. Their meeting was not cordial, nor such as men, who meet in a desert, should give each other; but I thought they would have parted in peace, until I saw one put his rifle to the other’s back, and do what I call a treacherous and sinful murder. It was a noble and a manly youth, that boy—Though the powder burnt his coat, he stood the shock for more than a minute, before he fell. Then was he brought to his knees, and a desperate and manful fight he made to the brake, like a wounded bear seeking a cover!”
“And why, in the name of heavenly justice, did you conceal this?” cried Middleton.
“What! think you, Captain, that a man, who has spent more than threescore years in the wilderness, has not learned the virtue of discretion. What red warrior runs to tell the sights he has seen, until a fitting time? I took the Doctor to the place, in order to see whether his skill might not come in use; and our friend, the bee-hunter, being in company, was knowing to the fact that the bushes held the body.”
“Ay; it ar’ true,” said Paul; “but not knowing what private reasons might make the old trapper wish to hush the matter up, I said as little about the thing as possible, which was just nothing at all.”
“And who was the perpetrator of this deed?” demanded Middleton.
“If by perpetrator you mean him who did the act, yonder stands the man; and a shame, and a disgrace is it to our race, that he is of the blood and family of the dead.”
“He lies! he lies!” shrieked Abiram. “I did no murder; I gave but blow for blow.”
The voice of Ishmael was deep, and even awful, as he answered—
“It is enough. Let the old man go. Boys, put the brother of your mother in his place.”