"When did Sassacus ever make a secret of his lodge? He is not a beaver, or a wretched wood-chuck, to burrow in the ground, but an eagle who makes his nest on the highest trees."
From this reply Arundel could only understand, that the place where the hut stood was too well known to make it difficult for the Indians to discover it. There was no knowing what their audacity, thirst for revenge for the insult, and the opportunity to capture or destroy so famous an enemy, might tempt them to undertake; but he trusted that the want of a medium of communication (for only the Knight and Eliot, among the whites, as he supposed, could make themselves intelligible; and the Aberginians were not likely to approach the Taranteens) would be an insuperable obstacle in the way of their purpose, should they entertain any such as that intimated by his companion. It was evident, however, that Sassacus expected an attack during the night, and that so far from shunning the danger, he rather courted it; for it was easily to be avoided, by leaving the wigwam to its fate. There would not be much loss in that, the cabin being rudely built of bark: and the few articles of value which it contained might, in a short time, be removed to a place of safety. Arundel could scarcely be expected to participate in the feelings of the wild warrior in the contemplation of a fight with savages in the dark. Besides, he knew not by how many they might be attacked; and the prospect of a contest betwixt himself and Sassacus, on the one side, and half-a-dozen or more Taranteens, on the other, may well be conceived to have had in it nothing alluring. He would not, however, desert his friend; and, despairing of changing the chief's resolution, he walked in silence after him, turning over in his mind the possibilities of a night skirmish. Sassacus had, probably, an idea of his thoughts, for presently he resumed his attempt to dissuade Arundel from accompanying him.
"My brother," he said, "has no quarrel with the Taranteens. They have come to smoke the calumet with his people, and not to plunder his villages and burn his corn fields. Why should my brother expose his life?"
It was partly to try the courage of the young man, perhaps, and partly to ascertain how far he might be depended on, if there should be a fight, that the Indian asked the question. At any rate, a suspicion of the kind passed through Arundel's mind, and he answered:
"My life belongs to Sassacus. It is no longer mine."
"Sassacus gives his brother back his life. Will he not now return to his big lodge, where he will hear no war-whoop, but only the pleasant song of the gues-ques-kes in the morning?"
"Cease," said Arundel. "Not if there were as many Taranteens in the woods as there are leaves on the trees will I desert thee."
"It is well; and my brother shall see the difference between a Pequot and a wretched Taranteen."
All this time they had been walking without haste in a straight line, the Indian leading the way, and seeming to follow a particular course by instinct; for he looked not at the stars nor at any signs, so far as his companion could judge, to direct his steps. In this manner, they continued to advance, not much conversation passing until they reached the hut of Sassacus. This they entered: and, to the surprise of Arundel, the Indian, after throwing down a few skins for seats, began leisurely to prepare a meal. He lighted a fire outside of the lodge, which, of course, threw a light all around, and served to guide the steps of any wanderers, whether friends or prowling enemies; and waiting until the wood was reduced to glowing coals, threw upon them pieces of meat, whose pleasant odor soon pervaded the atmosphere. The confident bearing of the Indian had, by this time, produced such an effect upon Arundel, that he did not even ask him why he so unnecessarily exposed the place of his retreat, but partook of the viands from the coals, and of the parched corn, which his host produced from the wigwam, with a hearty appetite. His entertainer observed his execution upon the meal with marked satisfaction; and, upon its conclusion, presented him with a pipe, and, taking one himself, was soon under its soothing influence. Arundel, unaccustomed to the use of tobacco, could only inspire a few whiffs, out of compliment to the other, and then sat watching him. The fire light shone full upon the face of the bronze statue—"the stoic of the woods, the man without a tear"—before him, but no ferocity was discoverable in its lineaments. It seemed impossible to suppose that thoughts of bloodshed were passing at that moment through the mind of the handsome youth, dreamily closing and opening his eyes, as the clouds from the pipe floated away over his head, apparently unconscious of danger, intending no ill to others, and not anticipating it for himself.
After smoking his pipe, the Indian, instead of extinguishing the fire, threw additional wood, in considerable quantities, upon it; thereby still further increasing the wonder of Arundel. He next invited the guest into the wigwam, and heaping up several skins in a corner for a couch, said, that he was about to be absent for a short time, but that his brother might sleep meanwhile in perfect security. With these words the Pequot departed, leaving the young man reclined upon his bed, but not to slumber.