“But—what time of the day is it?” asked David perplexedly. “I thought—” His gaze encountered the glare outside the entrance and he remembered and groaned. “’Tis yet but early afternoon,” he said. “Hast heard what decision Metipom and his council will reach?”
John could not comprehend that and David turned it into his halting Nipmuck.
Then: “Nay,” answered John, “they still talk. Their voices sound like the cawing of many crows in the spring. The young men say one thing and the old men another, and the Great Sachem sits and smokes his pipe and listens.”
“What say the young men, brother?”
John cast a quick glance from the corners of his half-shut eyes and his lips drew back at their corners in a snarling grin. “War!” he answered.
“Against the English?” David laughed shortly. “’Tis evident that their choice is also yours, O Blind One.”
John muttered words that the other could not catch. Then: “I am not so blind but that I can see my enemy,” he answered, frowning.
“The fox who fled from the sound ran into
