"The white man spake not always truth to us. He told us that our lands were worthless, and he bought them from us for nothing, unless it was the accursed fire-drink which made us mad, or for fire-weapons that in our hands would slay nothing. Yet the lands thrived in his grasp and he possessed them and we had lost them. And when we reproached him he used fire-weapons that slew us without failure, and our prisoners whom he took he sent away for ever across the deep waters.[5] So he took our lands and our men, and got all, and we had nothing. And the Indian never forgets. Thus, while we drew away from where the pale face dwelt, some coming to these mountains and some going even farther towards the unknown land of the setting sun, we had naught to cherish but our revenge, and naught to comfort us but the exercise of that revenge." "Yet," interrupted young Mr. Byrd, "in the days of my grandfather you made a peace with us, and took gifts from us, and fire-weapons that would kill of a surety, and agreed to attack us no more. But even that peace you did not keep, though you made no raids upon us such as this you have now made." "Yet were we never the aggressors," the sachem replied. "Never was an attack made by us until evil was done to us. But the Indian forgives not. If one of our race was slain by one of the white race then must one of his kin be slain by us; if our women were outraged, as has often been, or insulted, then must a white woman or a child be carried away by us. It is the law of our gods; it must be obeyed. For a life a life, for a hand a hand, for an Indian woman's honour a white woman's, or the carrying off of children." "But," said Gregory, "there was naught to inspire such desire for revenge as to cause this last attack. None in Pomfret have harmed you or yours for many moons. What had she," pointing to Joice, "done; she, this innocent woman, scarce more than a girl even now, that thus you should attack and ruin her and seek her life and that of those by whom she was surrounded?" The sachem was about to answer when whatever he would have said was interrupted by Anuza, who, speaking quickly, said: "Because we were deceived by a lying, false, medicine man it was done. Because he told us lies, even as he has lied to us ever since he dwelt amongst us. And for those lies he shall die. He cannot escape us long. Yet, since it is due to the white men that they should know how that crawling snake worked upon us, so that we believed in him and did his bidding and attacked their houses, tell them all--tell them all," and he motioned to the sachem as he spoke. That all of us were eager to hear this recountal, you may be well sure, for there was scarcely one amongst us who had not known the wretch. The gentlemen had met him as an equal--for all believed his tale--he had caroused with the (now freed) bondsmen, and he had even gone a-hunting with the backwoodsmen and trappers. So we bent our ears to the narrative and listened greedily.