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Updated: May 11, 2025
When there is silence in the lodges, when Conanchet and his young men lie down, then does this pale woman speak. Sachem, she does not talk of the battles of her people, nor of the scalps that her warriors have taken, nor of the manner in which the Pequots and Mohicans fear her tribe.
The restless and still unconquered Conanchet hath deserted his towns and taken refuge in the open woods; where it exceedeth the skill and usage of our civilized men of war, to discover, at all times the position and force of their enemies. The consequences may be easily conjectured.
Pointing with a finger towards Whittal Ring, who stood a little in the background, a low, sweet voice was heard asking, in the language of the Indians "Why has Conanchet sent for his woman from the woods?" The young Sachem made no reply; an ordinary spectator could not have detected about him even a consciousness of the speaker's presence.
They will not take two, should they strike their prisoner now." "Hath Conanchet forgotten any thing, that he is not ready?" "Sachem, he is always ready But" he paused, and spoke in tones that faltered, "does a Mohican live alone?" "How many suns doth the Narragansett ask?" "One: when the shadow of that pine points towards the brook, Conanchet will be ready.
During this startling and fearful moment, the four individuals near the stream were inactive. Conanchet and his Christian friend stood to their arms, but it was rather as men cling to the means of defence in moments of great jeopardy, than with any intention of offensive hostilities. Metacom seemed undecided.
If the man I begin to suspect thee to be, thou knowest something of the usages of the whites. Speak; wilt swear to keep peace with the Mohegans, and to bury the hatchet in the path between your villages?" "The fire that burnt the lodges of my people turned the heart of Conanchet to stone," was the steady answer.
"Now tell me of Conanchet, the present Narragansett Sachem he who hath leagued with Metacom, and hath of late been driven from his fastness near the sea doth he yet live?" The expression of the brother's countenance underwent another change.
See," he added, raising the fingers of his two hands before the eyes of his attentive companion, "ten snows have come and melted, since there stood a lodge of the Pale-faces on this hill. Conanchet was then a boy. His hand had struck nothing but deer. His heart was full of wishes. By day he thought of Pequot scalps, at night he heard the dying words of Miantonimoh.
We shall therefore transfer the narrative to the end of that period. The body of Conanchet still rested against the tree. The eyes were open, and though glazed in death, there still remained about the brow, the compressed lips, and the expansive nostrils, much of that lofty firmness which had sustained him in the last trial of life.
His look and action were menacing, though his roving eye could see no object to excite alarm. Not so Conanchet. His quicker and more practised vision soon caught a glimpse of the warrior who was approaching, occasionally concealed by the trunks of trees, and whose tread on the dried leaves had first betrayed his proximity.
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