At the door of the tent of the slaughtered chief the Amazon defended her
children: while the war lightning kindled in her dark eye, she called aloud
in scornful tones to her people to hide themselves in the tents of their
women, who alone were _braves_, and would fight their battles. Fiercely she
taunted the men, but they shrank from the unequal contest, and she alone
was found to deal the death-blow upon the foe, till overpowered with
numbers, and pierced with frightful wounds, she fell singing her own
death-song and raising the wail for the dead who lay around her. Night
closed in, but the work of blood still continued, till not a victim was
found, and again they went forth on their exterminating work. Lower down
they found another encampment, and there also they slew all the inhabitants
of the lodges; they then returned back to the island, to gather together
their dead and collect the spoils of their tents. They were weary with
the fatigue of the slaughter of that fearful day; they were tired of
blood-shedding; the retribution had satisfied even their love of blood: and
when they found, on returning to the spot where the heroine had stood at
bay, one young solitary female sitting beside the corpse of that dauntless
woman, her mother, they led her away, and did all that their savage nature
could suggest to soften her anguish and dry her tears.
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