The messenger soon told his story. A number of fanatic white men had banded together and sworn eternal hostility to the Indians. They professed to consider them as standing in the same relation to themselves as the Canaanites of old did to the children of Israel; and, therefore, in the name of God, they waged an exterminating war against them. They had just fallen upon an Indian village of Tamaque’s tribe, and slaughtered the inhabitants, without regard to age or sex. This messenger had alone escaped to tell the dreadful tidings. His words produced a deep sensation on these fierce warriors, just emerging into civilization. The old instincts of their natures were evidently reawakened; and it seemed as if a signal only were wanting to make them rush forth, as in former days, with tomahawk and scalping-knife. Luten hastened to check the torrent of passion which threatened, in one moment, to sweep away the fruits of all his labors. Standing, like a venerable patriarch, among his rebellious household, he endeavored, by a skillful blending of persuasion with parental authority, to restore them to a sense of duty. Reminding them of their solemn vows, he conjured them by that regard for plighted faith which is the red man’s boast, not to forget or break them in this moment of passion. He pointed out the high destiny they had to accomplish, in spreading light and knowledge all through the wilderness, and leading the way to a great reformation of the Indian race. Then, in a more solemn tone, he spoke of the world to come; painting the happiness in store for those who persevere to the end, and the uncontrollable miseries reserved for the unfaithful. His earnest eloquence was perfectly adapted to their simple apprehensions, yet eminently calculated to strike their imaginations by the wild imagery with which he embellished it. Their stern natures relented as he spoke, and he seemed to be on the point of regaining all his influence over them, when another messenger arrived, and signified that he had important news to communicate. He told of new outrages, more cruel, if possible, than the first; and whilst every heart beat high with rage and horror, turned to Tamaque and addressed him thus: “These griefs are common to us all; but the words I am now to speak will fall more dismally on Tamaque’s soul than the howling of a famished wolf. Yesterday you had a father and a sister. I saw that father’s gray hairs red with blood; I saw that sister, when flying from the blazing wigwam, driven back by the white men’s spears—and she returned no more. Then I came, swift as a hunted deer, to sound the war-whoop in the ears of Tamaque and his warriors.” Throughout the whole scene Tamaque had been sitting as impassive as a statue. It was impossible to gather from his looks any hint of what was passing in his mind; and when, at length, he rose, the fire that beamed from his eye alone enabled me to anticipate his purpose.