It was a splendid figure, at least six feet four inches in height.

At that moment some rays of the setting sun broke through the gray clouds and shone full upon it, lighting up the defiant scalp lock interwoven with the brilliant red feather, the eagle face with the curved Roman beak, and the mighty shoulders and chest of red bronze.

It was a genuine king of the wilderness, none other than the mighty Timmendiquas himself, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots.
"Ware," he said, "I would speak with you.

Let us talk as one chief to another." The five were amazed.

Timmendiquas there! They were quite sure that he had come up with the second force, and he was certain to prove a far more formidable leader than either Braxton Wyatt or Moses Blackstaffe.
But his demand to speak with Henry Ware might mean something.
"Are you going to answer him ?" said Shif'less Sol.
"Of course," replied Henry.
"The others, especially Wyatt and Blackstaffe, might shoot." "Not while Timmendiquas holds the flag of truce; they would not dare." Henry stood up, raising himself to his full height.