Mr. Mason knew this to be true.
"Then," said he, "Keona deserves punishment."
"Let him die," answered the chief; and an exclamation of assent broke from the other natives. Keona himself, happening to be there, became pale and looked anxious; but remained where he stood, nevertheless, with his arms crossed on his dark breast. A bandage of native cloth was tied round his wounded arm. Without saying a word he undid this, tore it off, and allowed the blood to ooze from the reopened wound.
It was a silent appeal to the feelings and the sense of justice of his comrades, and created a visible impression in his favor.
"That wound was received by one who would have been a murderer!" said Mr. Mason, observing the effect of this action.
"He struck me!" cried Keona, fiercely.
"He struck you in defending his own home against a cowardly attack," answered the missionary.
At this point Ole Thorwald saw fit to interfere. Seeing that the natives were beginning to argue the case, and knowing that no good could come from such a course, he quietly observed:
"There will be neither wife nor child in this place if I do but hold up my hand."
The missionary and his party did not, of course, understand this allusion, but they understood the result; for the savages at once dropped their tones, and the chief sued earnestly for peace.