"But the Children of the West Wind do not suffer the death of, their sons to go unrewarded.

For each one of the five, three Palefaces shall eat the dust in the day of our triumph." "Be it so," said I stoutly, though I felt a dreadful nausea coming over me.

I was determined to keep my head high, if only my frail body would not fail me.
"The Sons of the West Wind," he spoke again, "have need of warriors.
You can atone for the slaughter you have caused, and the blood feud will be forgotten.

In the space of five suns we shall sweep the Palefaces into the sea, and rule all the land to the Eastern waters.

My brother is a man of his hands, and valour is dear to the heart of Onotawah.