"The sun has stood still twice, since Occom beheld a strange sight, for as he sat in this same spot, he heard the sound of feet approaching, and hiding himself, there passed by three pale men, and a squaw more lovely than the harvest moon. They had with them Tetto, one of the Tuscaroras, and as Occom looked they disappeared on down the trail, and I saw them no more."
"What manner of men were they, my brother?" I asked.
"The chief was tall, with dark hair, and his face was as the stone; the look upon it was like the hawk when he wheels to strike his prey."
It was Dunraven without a doubt, the Indian had described him well. But who were his companions?
"And what of the others?" I continued. "Did the eye of Occom behold the others?"
"Occom saw them," he answered. "The one who walked behind the chief was as the pale moon, when afraid it shrinks behind the clouds, and when the chief spoke to him harshly, he drew back in fear; he is a squaw and should till the soil with them."
"And what of the third?—what of him, Occom?"
"He was round and fat as the bear," he answered, as though in scorn at my excitement. "His face was big and red as the blood of the deer, but he wore the dress of the squaw, and his head was white with the snows of many winters."
"'Tis the priest!" I cried. "Ah, a precious crew!
"Show the Eagle what thou didst pick up from the trail when they had passed," said Manteo to the Indian Occom.