He was just about to speak,
when he recognized Chitta, and heard him utter the words that at once
declared him to be the author of the conflagration and the enemy of his
people and their friends.
Not being able to appreciate the petty spirit of revenge that
influenced the Snake, Has-se gave utterance to his exclamation of
surprise, and in return received the cruel blow for which he was so
little prepared.
When he recovered consciousness he found himself in his father's lodge,
lying on a bed of deer-skins, while his sister, the beautiful Nethla,
was bathing his temples with cold water.
It was now broad daylight, and the great granary, with all its
contents, had been reduced to a heap of smouldering ruins. About the
lodge in which Has-se lay were gathered a great crowd of Indians,
awaiting his return to consciousness, to learn what he knew of the
occurrences of the past few hours, and in what way he had been
connected with them. By the earliest light of day a band of
experienced warriors had tracked his assailant from the spot in which
the young Bow-bearer had been discovered, through the tall grass and
underbrush from which the fugitive had brushed the dew in his flight to
the river's edge. Here one of the canoes that had been drawn up on the
beach was found to be missing, and search parties had been sent both up
and down the river, but as yet they had not returned.
As Has-se slowly recovered consciousness, and opened his eyes, his
sister bent over him and whispered, "Who dealt thee the cruel blow, oh,
my brother?"
Receiving his faint answer, she sprang to her feet, and turning to her
father, who stood near, exclaimed, "'Tis Chitta the Snake who has done
this thing in revenge for our Has-se's success in the games of
yesterday.
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