“Only a base ingrate and liar,” he cried, “would slander celestial purity.  Master Spikeman knows that what he utters is false.”

“Ha! darest thou, malapert boy,” said Spikeman, advancing to Arundel with his arm raised, as if about to strike; but Waqua stepped between them.  He had gravely listened to the heated conversation, and supposed he understood its purport.

“Let not the wise white man,” he said, addressing Spikeman, “imitate a mad wolf in his anger.  Give to my brother for his wife the girl whose cheeks are like the summer morning, for her heart has hid itself in his bosom.”

The fury of Spikeman, thus bearded in his own house, was now directed to the savage.  Anger appeared to have completely deprived him of reason, for turning upon the Indian with glaring eyes and exerting his strength to the utmost, he hurled him with irresistible force across the room against the wainscot, where his head struck a post, and he fell bleeding on the floor.

Waqua was instantly on his feet again, and his first motion was to clutch the tomahawk, but Arundel catching his arm, compelled him to desist from his revenge.  Holding the savage by the arm, Arundel passed out of the apartment, leaving the Assistant standing as if petrified by his own violence, while Eveline, pale, yet resolute, had sunk upon a seat, and Prudence was hysterically shrieking.  As soon as they stood in the street, Arundel said: 

“I am grieved, Waqua, that thou, on my account, shouldst have been the object of the ruffian’s rage.  Its possibility occurred not to me.”

“Let not my brother grieve,” said the Indian.  “It is nothing; not so much as the scratch of a bear’s paw.”

“I take blame to myself for this day’s unhappy violence, and hope that no further mischief may spring out of it.  Will my brother grant me a favor?”

“The ears of Waqua are open,” said the savage.

“Promise me, for my sake, to seek no revenge, but to leave it in my hands.”

But the Indian looked moodily on the ground.  “Waqua,” he said, “will kill his enemies himself.”

“If,” continued the young man, “my brother knew that an attempt to punish the bad white man would bring ruin on the maiden and on me, would he be willing to destroy them too?”

“Waqua will do no harm to his brother.”

“Waqua’s heart and mine are one, and he has a wise head.  He sees that the arms of the English are very long, and their hands strong, and he will not run into them, for they will crush him.”

“My brother shall see the inside of Waqua.  Let him look up.  Behold, the sun shines because he is the sun, and the wind stirs the forest leaves because he is the wind, and water runs, and fire burns, because the Master of Life made them thus; and so the Indian will never forgive, for then would he cease to be an Indian.  But Waqua will do nought to injure his brother.”