las and their
friends, who live beyond the Great Lake, and came on the back of a great
bird. Revenge we must have."

"Revenge we ask, revenge we must have," said the hoarse voice in the
cave.

"Will your master hear us?" asked the Old Eagle of the priest.

"My master must have a sacrifice, he must smell blood," said the ugly
old man. "Then we shall know if he will give you revenge. Go in the
morning to the woods, and take a wolf, a rattlesnake, and a tortoise,
and bring them to me at the mouth of the cave, when the great star of
day is coming out of the Suwaney."

The Old Eagle, and the other chiefs and warriors who asked revenge, did
as Sketupah bade them. They went to the woods, and took a wolf, a
tortoise, and a rattlesnake, and brought them, the wolf growling, the
snake hissing, and the tortoise snapping his teeth, to the priest.

He bade them build a fire of pine, and the tree which bears poisonous
flowers[A], and the hemlock, and the grape-vine which bears no fruit.
They did as he bade them, and made the fire flame high. Then Sketupah
prepared the sacrifice. First he skinned the wolf, then he shelled the
tortoise. He bound the wolf's skin upon himself with the snake, and with
his entrails he fastened the shell of the tortoise upon his head. Then
he laid the carcasses of the wolf, and the snake and the tortoise, upon
the fire, and danced around it, while he sang to his master the
following song:--

Song of Sketupah.

We have slain the beasts:--
The hissing snake, with poisonous fangs;
The wolf, whose teeth are red with Indian blood;
And the creeping tortoise, the dweller in deep fens;
We have slain them.
Lo! they are laid on hissing coals:
Wilt thou come, Spirit of Evil, and claim thine own?

The sons of the Shawanos lie low,
Far from the burial-place of their fathers;
Red wounds are on their breasts,
Cold and stiff are their limbs;
Their eyes see not the ways of men,
Nor the rising or setting of the great star,
Nor the blooming of spring-flowers,
Nor the glad glances of young maidens:
They sleep in the vale of death.

They fell, and no revenge,
No torments of foes, appease them in the land of spirits;
No shoutings of brother warriors
Gladden their shades;
The camp of their nation is mute;
They are forgotten by their women;
The bright eyes of their maidens
Have no tears in them:
They sleep forgot