"We were planters and builders," said the Tallega, "and they were
fighters, so they took our lands from us. But look, now, how time
changes all. Of the Lenni-Lenape and the Mengwe there is only a name,
and the mounds are still standing."
"You said," Oliver hinted, "that you carried a pipe once. Was
that--anything particular?"
"It might be peace or war," said the Mound-Builder. "In my case it was
an order for Council, from which war came, bloody and terrible. A
Pipe-Bearer's life was always safe where he was recognized, though when
there is war one is very likely to let fly an arrow at anything moving
in the trails. That reminds me..." The Tallega put back his feathered
robe carefully as he leaned upon his elbow, and the children snuggled
into a little depression at the top of the mound where the fire-hole had
been, to listen.
"There was a boy in our town," he began, "who was the captain of all our
plays from the time we first stole melons and roasting-ears from the
town gardens. He got us into no end of trouble, but no matter what came
of it, we always stood up for him before the elders. There was nothing
_they_ could say which seemed half so important to us as praise or blame
from Ongyatasse.
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