Presently the heat became intolerable within the wigwam, and David fared forth. About one of the lodges near the center of the village many men were gathered, and amongst them David saw, as he drew near, Pikot and his two companions. They sat a little apart, each smoking gravely, and taking no part in the talk that was going on. Most of those in the gathering were younger men, although here and there one beyond fighting age hearkened to the discussion. David paused a little from the edge of the throng and sought to catch Pikot’s eye, but while the Pegan must have been aware of his presence he never so much as glanced the boy’s way, and after a moment, since the Indians began to regard him with disfavor, he went on.
From within the big wigwam of the sachem came the sound of a voice, quavering, monotonous, and David recognized it for the voice of Quinnapasso. As the boy passed beyond, the voice died away and in its place came the deeper speech of another.
David found a place of shade near the gate of the palisade and stretched himself down, and after a moment one of the yellow village dogs crept toward him, wagging an
