The meal had put a little heart in me--heart enough to wait dismally on the next happening.
Presently the chief whom they called Onotawah stood at the tent door, and with him a man who spoke the Powhatan tongue.
"Greeting, brother," he said.
"Greeting," I answered, in the stoutest tone I could muster.
"I come from the council of the young men, where the blood of our kin cries for the avenger.

The Sons of the West Wind have seen the courage of the stranger, and would give him the right of combat as a free man and a brave.

Is my brother ready to meet our young men in battle ?" I was about as fit to right as an old horse to leap a fence, but I had the wit to see that my only hope lay in a bold front.

At any rate, a clean death in battle was better than burning, and my despair was too deep to let me quibble about the manner of leaving this world.
"You see my condition," I said.

"I am somewhat broken with travel and wounds, but, such as I am, I am willing to meet your warriors.