"I know not what injury may have been done the Wampanoags, by men of wicked minds, for some such there are, even in the dwellings of the well-disposed; but wrong to any hath never come from those that dwell within my doors. For these lands, a price hath been paid; and what is now seen of abundance in the valley, hath been wrought by much labor. Thou art a Wampanoag, and dost know that the hunting-grounds of thy tribe have been held sacred by my people. Are not the fences standing, which their hands placed, that not even the hoof of colt should trample the corn? and when was it known that the Indian came for justice against the trespassing ox, and did not find it?" "The moose doth not taste the grass at the root; he liveth on the tree! He doth not stoop to feed on that which he treadeth under foot! Does the hawk look for the musketoe? His eye is too big. He can see a bird. Go--when the deer have been killed the Wampanoags will break down the fence with their own hands. The arm of a hungry man is strong. A cunning Pale-face hath made that fence--it shutteth out the colt, and it shutteth in the Indian But the mind of a warrior is too big; it will not be kept at grass with the ox." A low but expressive murmur of satisfaction from the mouths of his grim companions, succeeded the reply of the chief. "The country of thy tribe is far distant," returned Content, "and I will not lay untruth to my soul by presuming to say whether justice or injustice hath been done them in the partition of the lands. But in this valley hath wrong never been done to the red man. What Indian hath asked for food and not got it? If he hath been a-thirst, the cider came at his wish; if he hath been a-cold, there was a seat by the hearth; and yet hath there been reason why the hatchet should be in my hand, and why my foot should be on the war-path! For many seasons we lived on lands, which were bought of both red and white man, in peace. But though the sun shone clear so long, the clouds came at last. There was a dark night fell upon this valley, Wampanoag, and death and the brand entered my dwelling, together. Our young men were killed, and----our spirits were sorely tried." Content paused, for his voice became thick, and his eye had caught a glimpse of the pale and drooping countenance of her who leaned on the arm of the still excited and frowning Mark for support. The young chief listened with a charmed ear. As Content had proceeded, his body was inclined a little forward, and his whole attitude was that which men unconsciously assume when intensely occupied in listening to sounds of the deepest interest.