And the water you beheld was the river culled Chemung." The girl seemed stunned, standing there plucking at her fingers, scarlet lips parted, and her startled eyes fixed upon the white-draped sibyl.
"Executioner! Bend your bow!" cried Amochol, with a terrible stare at the Sorceress.
The man in woven armour raised his bow, bent it, drawing the arrow to the tip.

At the same instant the Prophetess rose to her feet, flung back her cowl, and looked Amochol steadily in the eyes from the shadow of her hair.
So, for a full minute in utter silence, they stared at each other; then Amochol said between his teeth: "Have a care that you read truly what my people dream!" "Shall I lie ?" she asked in even tones.

And, quivering with impotent rage and superstition, the Red Priest found no word to answer.
"O Amochol," she said, "let the armoured executioner loose his shaft.
It is poisoned.

Never since the Cat-People were overthrown has a poisoned arrow been used within the Long House.

Never since the Atotarho covered his face from Hiawatha--never since the snakes were combed from his hair--has a Priest of the Long House dared to doubt the Prophetess of the Seneca nation.