"Certain," he said. "We went on a path, in the night, against the lying Yengeese, and no burning of the woods ever scorched the 'arth as we blackened their fields! All their proud housen were turned into piles of coals."
"And where and when did you this act of brave vengeance?"
"They called the place after the bird of night as if an Indian name could save them from an Indian massacre!"
"Ha! 'Tis of the Wish-Ton-Wish thou speakest But thou wast a sufferer, and not an actor, brother in that heartless burning."
"Thou liest like a wicked woman of the Pale faces, as thou art! Nipset was only a boy on that path, but he went with his people. I tell thee, we singed the very 'arth with our brands, and not a head of them all ever rose again from the ashes."
Notwithstanding her great self-command, and the object that was constantly before the mind of Faith, she shuddered at the fierce pleasure with which her brother pronounced the extent of the vengeance, that, in his imaginary character, he believed he had taken on his enemies. Still cautious not to destroy an illusion which might aid her, in the so-long-defeated and so-anxiously-desired discovery, the woman repressed her horror, and continued--
"True--yet some were spared--surely the warriors carried prisoners back to their village. Thou didst not slay all?"
"All."
"Nay--thou speakest now of the miserables who were wrapt in the blazing block; but--but some, without, might have fallen into thy hands, ere the assailed sought shelter in the tower. Surely--surely thou didst not kill all?"
The hard breathing of Ruth caught the ear of Whittal, and for a moment he turned to regard her countenance in dull wonder. But again shaking his head, he answered in a low, positive tone--"All;--ay, to the screeching women and crying babes!"