"The white boy speaks truth. He did not kill our brother, but his white friend took his life."
"You ought not to kill me for that," said Tom, gathering courage, for he inferred he was to live.
"The white boy speaks truth, and therefore he shall live, but he must join us. He must live with us, hunt with us, and fight for us."
"You want me to become an Indian!" ejaculated Tom.
"We will take you in place of the warrior that is gone," said the interpreter.
Tom looked thoughtful. He did not enjoy the prospect before him, but it was, at all events, better than death. While there was life there was hope of escape. He concluded to make one appeal for freedom, and, if that was denied, to accept the proposal.
"I have a father and mother far away," he said; "I have brothers and a sister, who will mourn for me. My father is poor; he needs my help. Let me go back to them."
The interpreter communicated Tom's words to his companions, but it was easy to see that they were not favorably received. The original advocates of the death penalty looked at our hero with hostile eyes, and he saw that he had made a mistake.
"The white boy must become one of us; he must take our brother's place, or he must die," said the interpreter.
Tom very sensibly concluded that it would be better to live with the Indians than to be killed, and signified his acceptance of the offer. Upon this the Indians formed a circle about him, and broke into a monotonous chant, accompanied with sundry movements of the limbs, which appeared to be their way of welcoming him into their tribe.