he young warriors went to war, and drank much
blood. And, when two moons were gone, they would come back with many
prisoners and scalps, and have a great feast, and eat Walkullas roasted
in the fire. The arguments of the fiery young orators prevailed with all
the youthful warriors; but the elder and wiser listened to the priests
and the counsellors, and remained in their villages, to see the leaf
fall and the grass grow, and to gather in the nut and follow the trail
of the deer.

[Footnote A: Great Salt Lake, the ocean.]

[Footnote B: A boiling stream, near the mouth of the river Walkulla, in
Florida.]

Two moons had passed--then a third--then came the night enlivened by
many stars--but the warriors returned not. As the land of the Walkullas
lay but a woman's journey of six suns from the villages of our nation,
our people began to fear that our young men had been overcome in battle,
and were all slain. The head chief and the counsellors, and all the
warriors who had remained behind, came together in the great wigwam[A],
and called the priests, to tell them where their sons were. Chenos, who
was the wisest of them all, as well he might be (for he was older than
the oak-tree whose top dies by the hand of Time), answered that they
were killed by their enemies, the Walkullas, assisted by men of a
strange speech and colour, who lived beyond the Great Salt Lake, fought
with thunder and lightning, and came to our enemies on the back of a
great bird with many white wings. When he had thus made known to our
people the fate of the warriors, there was a dreadful shout of horror
throughout the village. The women wept aloud, and the men sprung up and
seized their bows and arrows, to go to war upon the Walkullas, and the
strange warriors who had helped to slay their sons; but Chenos bade them
sit down. "There is one yet living," said he. "He will soon be here. The
sound is in my ear of his footsteps, as he crosses the hollow hills. He
has killed many of his enemies; he has glutted his vengeance fully; he
has drunk blood in plenteous draughts. Long he fought with the men of
his own race, and many fell before him; but he fled from the men who
came to the battle armed with the red lightning, and hurling unseen
death. Even now I see him coming. The shallow streams he has forded, the
deep rivers he has swum. He is tired and hungry; and his quiver has no
arrows, but he brings a prisoner in his arms. Lay the deer's flesh on
the coals, an