ed him
and his young men. That was ten suns ago. Black Wolf and his young men
have seen many things. When they go back to the Blue Mountains, the
Ricahecrians will think they listen to singing birds. They will tell of
the great salt water, of the boats with wings, of the palefaces, of
their fields of maize and tobacco, of the black men who serve them, of
their temples, werowances and women. They will tell of the great white
father who rules, of his power, his wisdom, his open hand--"

"I thought it would come at last," quoth the Governor. "What does he
want, Harquip?"

"The Ricahecrian starts for his wigwam in the Blue Mountains to-morrow
as my father commands. He says: 'Shall I not return to my people with a
gift from the great white father in my hand?'"

The Governor laughed. "Let one of your young men go to the court-house.
I will give him an order for beads, for a piece of red cloth, and yes,
rat me! he shall have a mirror! I hope he is satisfied!"

The half king's eyes gleamed covetously. "My father gives large gifts.
He has indeed an open hand. But the Ricahecrian desires another thing.
He says: 'Seven years ago, at the falls of the Powhatan, Black Wolf saw
his brother fall before the stick-that-speaks of the palefaces. Grey
Wolf was a great chief. The village in the Blue Mountains mourned very
much. Nicotee, his squaw, went wailing into the land of shadows. His son
hath seen but seven moons of corn, but he dreams of the day when he
shall sharpen the hatchet against the slayers of his father.... The
Chickahominies have told Black Wolf that his brother was wounded and not
slain by the palefaces. They brought him captive to their great board
wigwams. There they tied him not to the torture stake; they knew that a
Ricahecrian laughs at the pine splinters. They tortured his spirit. They
made him a woman. The great chief of the Ricahecrians no longer throws
the tomahawk--the guns of the palefaces are about him. He dances the
corn dance no more--his back is bowed with burdens. His arrow brings
not down the fleeing deer, he tracks not the bear to his den--he toils
like a squaw in the fields of the palefaces. Black Wolf says to the
white father: "Give back the Sagamore to the Ricahecrians, to his son,
to the village by the falling stream in the Blue Mountains. Then will
the Ricahecrians be friends with the palefaces forever." To-morrow Black
Wolf and his young men row towards the sunset; let the captive chief be
in the