University of Virginia Library

9. IX.

“The Occonies were not backward, though the
affair was commenced by the Estatoees. Cheochee,
their leader, was quite as brave as malignant,
and now exulted in the near prospect of that
sweet revenge for all the supposed wrongs and
more certain rivalries which his tribe had suffered
from the Green Birds. Nor was this more the
feeling with him than with his tribe. Disposing
themselves, therefore, in readiness to receive the
assault, they rejoiced in the coming of a strife, in
which, having many injuries to redress, they had
the advantages, at the same time, of position and
number.

“But their fighting at disadvantage was not
now a thought with the Little Estatoees. Their

blood was up, and like all usually patient people,
once aroused, they were not so readily quieted.
Nagoochie, the warrior now, and no longer the
lover, led on the attack. You should have seen
how that brave young chief went into battle —
how he leapt up in air, slapped his hands upon
his thighs in token of contempt for his foe, and
throwing himself open before his enemies, dashed
down his bow and arrows, and waving his hatchet,
signified to them his desire for the conflict, à l'outrance,
and, what would certainly make it so, hand
to hand. The Occonies took him at his word,
and throwing aside the long bow, they bounded
out from their cover to meet their adversaries.
Then should you have seen that meeting — that
first rush — how they threw the tomahawk — how
they flourished the knife — how the brave man
rushed to the fierce embrace of his strong enemy
— and how the two rolled along the hill in the
teeth-binding struggle of death.

“The tomahawk of Nagoochie had wings and
a tooth. It flew and bit in every direction. One
after another, the Occonies went down before it,
and still his fierce war cry of `Echa-mal-Occony,'
preceding every stroke, announced another and
another victim. They sank away from him like
sheep before the wolf that is hungry, and the disparity

of force was not so great in favor of the
Occonies, when we recollect that Nagoochie was
against them. They were now, under his fierce
valor, almost equal in number, and something
more was necessary to be done by the Occonies
before they could hope for that favorable result
from the struggle which they had before looked
upon as certain. It was for Cheochee now to
seek out and to encounter the gallant young chief
of Estato. Nagoochie, hitherto, for reasons best
known to himself, had studiously avoided the
leader of the Vipers; but he could no longer do
so. He was contending, in close strife, with Okonettee,
or the One Eyed — a stout warrior of the
Vipers — as Cheochee approached him. In the
next moment, the hatchet of Nagoochie entered
the skull of Okonettee. The One-Eyed sunk to
the ground, as if in supplication, and, seizing the
legs of his conqueror, in spite of the repeated
blows which descended from the deadly instrument,
each of which was a death, while his head
swam, and the blood filled his eyes, and his senses
were fast fleeting, he held on with a death-grasp
which nothing could compel him to forego. In
this predicament, Cheochee confronted the young
brave of Estato. The strife was short, for though
Nagoochie fought as bravely as ever, yet he
struck in vain, while the dying wretch, grappling
his legs, disordered, even by his convulsions, not
less than by his efforts, every blow which the strong
hand of Nagoochie sought to give. One arm was
already disabled, and still the dying wretch held
on to his legs. In another moment, the One-Eyed
was seized by the last spasms of death, and in his
struggles, he dragged the Estato chief to his
knees. This was the fatal disadvantage. Before
any of the Green Bird warriors could come to his
succor, the blow was given, and Nagoochie lay
under the knee of the Brown Viper. The knife
was in his heart, and the life not yet gone, when
the same instrument encircled his head, and his
swimming vision could behold his own scalp waving
in the grasp of his conqueror. The gallant
spirit of Nagoochie passed away in a vain effort
to utter his song of death — the song of a brave
warrior conscious of many victories.