The rest escaped, and carried the news of the death of their braves to their village.

One of the killed was a relative of Sullen Face.

The sad news spread rapidly through the village, and nothing was heard but lamentation.

The women cut long gashes on their arms, and as the blood flowed from the wound they would cry, Where is my husband?
my son?
my brother?
Soon the cry of revenge is heard above that of lamentation.

"It is not possible," said Sullen Face, "that we can allow these English to starve us, and take the lives of our warriors.