many Indians have been killed? My hand has two sides, and so has every tale.”
Metipom thrust his lower lip forth, shot a calculating glance at David and nodded. So, too, did some of the counselors: and one spoke. It was the aged Quinnapasso.
“The White Boy talks wise talk,” he quavered. “If Philip conquers, why does he seek our help, Woosonametipom?”
At that many grunted and several spoke together until the sachem bade them be silent. “Tell him to be gone,” he said, pointing at David. “Tell him we will weigh what he has said.”
Outside, David drew a long breath of relief, thankful to be away from the mournful sight of Philip’s tokens. As he sought his wigwam, he strove to solve the puzzling mystery of Monapikot’s apparent defection. Now that his spasm of anger had passed, something of his former belief in his friend returned. After all, the heads proved nothing one way or another. And although Pikot’s words to Metipom had seemed to encourage the sachem to take sides with Philip, yet it might be that they had been meant to have the other effect, to arouse in him a spirit of obstinacy. Metipom was proud and self-
