Coubitant was highly gratified; but his desire for vengeance was stronger than his vanity, and forgetting the honor that had been conferred upon him, he entreated the Chief to allow him instantly to drive his spear into the boy’s heart, or else with his own weapon to take the life of the slayer’s child.

‘Not yet!’ replied Tisquantum—­and Henrich comprehended the full purport of his words—­’not today, Coubitant.  I would pour out the blood of the white youth with pomp and ceremony, as an offering to the spirit of my murdered son.  Let the boy be fed and refreshed:  tomorrow, at break of day, he shall die.  Go.  I have said it.’

‘And will the Sachem give him into my charge until the morning dawns?’ inquired Coubitant.

Tisquantum fixed his piercing eye on the savage, and read his malevolent feelings; and he calmly answered, ’No:  the victim shall bleed because his father’s blood flows in his veins.  But he shall not be tortured; for his was not the hand that deprived me of my son.  The boy shall remain in my own lodge, and sleep securely for this night beneath the same roof that shelters my last remaining child—­my lovely Oriana.’

Had the Chief observed Henrich’s changing countenance, he would have perceived that all he said was understood by the intended sufferer.  But he marked him not, and the boy commanded himself, and kept silence, determined to await Coubitant’s departure before he made one effort to move the Chief to pity.  He had, however, no opportunity of trying the effect of his earnest appeal; for Tisquantum ordered one of his attendants to remove him at once to the inner division of the lodge, and to secure him there for the night:  and then, motioning Coubitant to retire, and resuming his pipe, he proceeded to ‘drink smoke,’ as composedly as if his evening repose had not been interrupted.

But, notwithstanding his outward composure, the Nausett chief was not unmoved by the event that had just occurred.  The sight of the son of him whose hand had slain his young Tekoa brought back the image of his brave young warrior, as he stood beside him at the fatal burial-ground, full of youthful ardor, to combat the invaders of his land, and the supposed enemies of his race.  He recalled his daring look as he mounted the palisade, and placed in his unerring bow the arrow that wounded the English boy.  And then he seemed to hear again the sharp report of the white man’s musket, and to behold once more the sudden fall of his son, bleeding and expiring, to the ground.

Tisquantum thought on that hour of anguish, when his duties as a chief and a warrior had forbidden all expression of his grief; and he thought of his return to his lodge, where only Oriana remained to welcome him—­ for the mother of his children, whom he had loved with unusual affection, was dead—­and tears gathered in the Sachem’s eyes.  Oriana had deeply mourned her brother’s death; for since she had lost her mother, she had been permitted to enjoy much more of his society than had previously been allowed her; and her father, also, had seemed to transfer to her much of the love that be had borne towards his wife.  Now his daughter was his only domestic tie; and his chief object in life was to give her in marriage to a warrior as brave as her young brother, and who would supply to him the place of his departed son.