It was not for a chief who wished to win not one victory, but a hundred to show undue elation.

But he turned and for a few moments gazed directly into the sun with unwinking eyes, and when he shifted his gaze away, a great tide of life leaped in his veins.
Then he gave silent thanks.

Like all the other Indians in North America the Mohawks personified and worshipped the sun, which to them was the mighty Dweller in Heaven, almost the same as Manitou, a great spirit to whom sacrifices and thanksgivings were to be made.

The sun, an immortal being, had risen that morning and from his seat in the highest of the high heavens he had looked down with his invincible eye which no man could face more than a few seconds, upon his favorite children, the Mohawks, to whom he had given the victory.

Daganoweda bowed a head naturally haughty and under his breath murmured thanks for the triumph given and prayers for others to come.
The warriors built the fire anew and cooked their breakfasts.