Across the glade a new assailant stole;
The blaze reviving showed his movements well;
And Williams sprang his warrior to sustain,
Just as he strained the yielding bow again.
L.
But as he drew the arrow to the head,
The cord snapt short; he dashed the weapon down,
And leaping from the rock upon the glade,
With glittering scalping-knife and haughty frown,
Before the assailant stood, who paused, surveyed,—
Measuring the hunter's height from heel to crown,—
Then, swift as thought, the vengeful hatchet sent;
At Waban's head the well-aimed weapon went.
LI.
But well the wary hunter knew his foe
And read his murderous purpose in his eye;
He marked the coming steel, and, bending low,
Let it pass on and cleave the air on high;
Behind him rings the cliff with shivering blow,
And far around its scattered atoms fly;
Then with wild yells they wave the scalping-knife,
Together rush, and thrust and strike for life.
LII.
O! 'twas a fearful scene—a moment dire;
For on the issue of that contest lay
The lives of infants, mother, and of sire,
And the fair fame that crowns a distant day.
Soon closed the champions by the glimmering fire,
Limbs locked in limbs in terrible affray;
They writhe—they wrench—they stagger to and fro,
Hands grasping hands that aim the fatal blow.
