So short a time had passed since the breath left the body, that it still looked fresh and life-like.  There, extended on the sand, lay the strong, bold man, who but a day before had boasted of his prowess, and of the terror of his name; now a dog might insult him with impunity.  A deep wound gaped upon his breast, and the water had not washed all the clotted blood from his head.  His countenance wore a look of deadly ferocity, and it was evident that he had died as a brave man should, with his face to the foe.

The Taranteens, after the first burst of feeling, looked on in gloomy silence, and began to cast glances of distrust and apprehension around.  The scalp-lock of Pieskaret was untouched.  He had fallen then in no conflict with Indians.  His companions had escaped with the body, and launched it on the water in order to apprise them of what had happened, and of their own danger.  In low tones they addressed each other, and drew aside for consultation.

Meanwhile a thousand comments were made by the bystanders.  A cloud rested on the weather-beaten face of Dudley, and over the whole group, except the Knight, whose equanimity no circumstance seemed able to disturb.

“I suspected mischief,” said Dudley to the Knight, “when this morning, only half the number of the savages presented themselves; and now doth it pass my understanding how this miserable wretch lost his life.”

“It is seldom that a brawl disturbs our peaceful settlement,” said Sir Christopher, “and I have heard of none during the night.  Has your worship obtained knowledge of any such?”

“Of none.  And now will great scandal, and even infamy rest on us, by reason of this most untoward event, I fear me that our position with reference to these Taranteens will be worse than it was before, and that now they will be converted from indifferent neighbors into relentless enemies, unless we discover and deliver up to them the murderer, and even that will hardly restore confidence.”

“Nor can we say that the man was murdered.  It is hard to get a limit to the unbridled passions of savages; and it may be that it was in self-defence, or in the endeavor to prevent some other grievous wrong, that whosoever killed him took his life.”

“A mystery doth enshroud the affair.  Where lost the man his life, and by whose hand, and for what cause?  It could not be where they camped in the night.  We heard no disturbance, no signs of violence are to be seen, and the other Indians would have known.  If Indians killed him, why took they not his scalp, and why set they him floating on the water?  Herein it looks like the foolish prank of drunken sailors.  But then what cause of such enmity could there be? for all was done very quietly.  And what has become of the missing Taranteens?  Are they too killed, or in the forest on their way home?  Has Sassacus any hand in this matter?  Be it as it may, the bold partizan of the Pequots must be looked after.”