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"To sift a score of murderers out of a murderous nation will be like searching the ocean for a wave." Then Shalah spoke. "The trail is ten suns old, but I can follow it. The men were of the Meebaw tribe by this token." And he held up a goshawk's feather. "The bird that dropped that lives beyond the peaks of Shubash. The Meebaw are quick hunters and gross eaters, and travel slow.
We will find them by the Tewawha." "All in good time," I said. "Retribution must wait till we have finished our task. Can you find the Meebaw men again?" "Yea," said Shalah, "though they took wings and flew over the seas I should find them." Then we hastened away from that glade, none speaking to the other.
We breakfasted off fried bacon, some of which I saved for the journey, for the Indian was content with one meal a day. As we left the stockade I noted the row of Meebaw scalps hanging, grim and bloody, from the poles. The Borderers were up and stirring, for they looked to take the Indians in the river narrows before the morning was old.
I remembered only the meadow by the Rapidan, and the little lonely water-wheel. Our vow was needless, for others had done our work. "Would I had been with you!" was all I said. "But now you have more than a gang of Meebaw raiders to deal with. There's an invasion coming down from the hills, and this is the first wave of it, I want word sent to Governor Nicholson at James Town.
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