The gesture said plainly: "Do not strike; put that pistol back!" Braxton Wyatt, whose soul was afraid within him, did not strike, and he put the pistol back.
It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots, who with his little detachment had proved that day how mighty the Wyandot warriors were, full equals of Thayendanegea's Mohawks, the Keepers of the Western Gate.

He was bare to the waist.

One shoulder was streaked with blood from a slight wound, but his countenance was not on fire with passion for torture and slaughter like those of the others.
"There is no need to strike prisoners," he said in English.

"Their fate will be decided later." Paul thought that he caught a look of pity from the eyes of the great Wyandot, and Shif'less Sol said: "I'm sorry, Timmendiquas, since I had to be captured, that you didn't capture me yourself.

I'm glad to say that you're a great warrior." Wyatt growled under his breath, but he was still afraid to speak out, although he knew that Timmendiquas was merely a distant and casual ally, and had little authority in that army.