"The Taranteens are a great nation, and they love peace. It pleases them to see the smoke as it ascends from the calumet. It is more beautiful to their eyes than the white summer clouds which protect them from the heat of the sun. They would be glad to smoke with Owanux, but they cannot do it now, because should they attempt it, the blood of Pieskaret would put out the fire and the groans of his four brothers would agitate us so that the pipe would fall from our hands. I want the white chief to strengthen our hands, so that we can hold the calumet firmly, and perhaps that will satisfy Pieskaret too."
"I understand him," said Winthrop, after the Knight had interpreted, "but let him proceed."
"If the white chief will deliver to us the murderers of Pieskaret, and release our brothers from slavery," said the Taranteen, slowly and impressively, "it is well, and we will smoke with Owanux and forget what has happened; but if he will not,"—and here his voice sounded like the growl of a bear, as, putting his hand into his bosom, he took out a small package and handed it to Winthrop,—"we speak to the white chief thus:"
The Governor received the package, and saw that it consisted of a tomahawk in the centre, around which were placed several small arrows tipped with a red dye, and tied together with the stuffed skin of a rattle-snake, the rattles of which sounded as he took the ominous present into his hand. He waited composedly until the Knight had explained the words, though he comprehended at once the meaning of the savage, and then answered:
"If the Taranteens are a great nation, they are a nation of fools, else why do they not listen to my words? I tell thee a white English chief cannot lie; the Great Spirit will not permit a Christian chief to lie. In vain have I asserted our innocence in this matter; in vain have I expressed sorrow, and humiliated myself to thy reproaches. But the English know how to treat those who, faithless themselves, believe not in the faith of others. Behold!"
Winthrop drew his rapier, and cut the snake skin so that the tomahawk and arrows fell apart. Placing the skin upon a table, he next took up the arrows, and, breaking several at a time, let the pieces drop at his feet. Then seizing the tomahawk, he dashed it with such violence on the hearth of the fire-place, that the handle flew off and the stone head was broken. Lastly, taking down from a nail in the wall whereon they hung, a powder-horn and pouch of bullets, he filled the skin with powder and ball, and held it out to the Taranteen.
"Return now to thy people," he said, looking at the Indian with a stern aspect, "and tell them what thou hast seen and heard. Tell them that, though the English love peace, they fear not war. Tell them that we have never wronged the Taranteens by word or deed, nor is it our intention now to punish them for their injurious suspicions. But tell them, also that, as I have broken their arrows and dashed their war-axe, in pieces, so will I serve them, if the north-wind brings to my ears a whisper of evil designs from them. And as I have stuffed the snake skin with powder and ball, so will I fill their bodies with the same. Return."
As Winthrop uttered these words with a firm voice and imposing manner—words so explained by his actions that they needed no interpretation—he was confronted by the Taranteen with a dignity equal to his own. The demeanor of the savage was as calm as if he were smoking a pipe in his wigwam. He quietly followed every motion with his eyes, listened with all attention, as if he understood what was said, and, when Winthrop had concluded, took the loaded skin and handed it to his follower. The inferior Indian shrunk as he received the portentous powder and shot in their strange envelope, but whatever apprehensions he felt, he succeeded in conquering them, taking care however to hold the missive at a little distance from his person.
"Tender now our hospitality," said Winthrop to the Knight, "so long as they remain among us."
"But the Taranteens showed no disposition to accept the offer. Something was growled by the principal one, which Sir Christopher interpreted to intimate a desire to depart.