His eyes roll terribly, and upon his brow is a strange scar shaped like a crescent--" "Ay, ay, ay; and in his hair is one white tuft, which he has braided with scarlet thread," interposed Charles, panting and twitching in his excitement.
"That is the man--the most bloodthirsty fire eater of all the Indian chiefs.

Could the country but be rid of him, we might sleep in our beds in peace once more, instead of lying shivering and shaking at every breath which passes over the forest at night." "Let us be gone!" cried Charles, shaking his knife in a meaning and menacing fashion; "I thirst to be there when that man's record is closed.

Let me see his end; let me plunge my knife into his black heart! There is another yet whom my vengeance must overtake; but let me fall upon this one first." "Was he one of the attacking party that desolated your homestead ?" asked Stark, as they moved along in the given direction, after a brief pause for rest and refreshment.
"Ay, he was," answered Charles grimly.

"I could not forget that gigantic form, that mighty spear, that scar and the white tuft! He stood by, and laughed at my frantic struggles, at the screams of the children, at the agony of my gentle wife.

A fiend from the pit could not have been more cruel.