Chivalrous deeds always stir an Indian's heart.

It was like a redman to die for his brother.

The indifference, the contempt for death, won their admiration.
"Let the white father stand forth," sternly called Wingenund.
A hundred somber eyes turned on the prisoners.

Except that one wore a buckskin coat, the other a linsey one, there was no difference.
The strong figures were the same, the white faces alike, the stern resolve in the gray eyes identical--they were twin brothers.
Wingenund once more paced before his silent chiefs.

To deal rightly with this situation perplexed him.