A Party Was Formed, Under His
Guidance, To Cut Off All Chance Of Retreat, And The Dark-Minded
Prophet Was To Be Hunted Like A Wild Beast To His Lair.
"The morning sun had scarce cleared away the fogs when Chocorua
started at a loud voice from beneath the precipice, commanding
him to throw himself into the deep abyss below.
He knew the
voice of his enemy, and replied with an Indian's calmness, 'The
Great Spirit gave life to Chocorua, and Chocorua will not throw
it way at the command of the white roan.' 'Then hear the Great
Spirit speak in the white man's thunder,' exclaimed Campbell, as
he pointed his gun to the precipice. Chocorua, though fierce and
fearless as a panther, had never overcome his dread for
firearms. He placed his hands upon his ears to shut out the
stunning report. The next moment the blood bubbled from his
neck, and he reeled fearfully on the edge of the precipice, but
he recovered and, raising himself on his hand, he spoke in a
loud voice, that grew more terrific as its huskiness increased:
'A curse upon ye, white men. May the Great Spirit curse ye when
he speaks in the clouds, and his words are fire. Chocorua had a
son and ye killed him while the sun looked bright. Lightning
blast your crops. Winds and fire destroy your dwellings. The
Evil Spirit breathe death upon your cattle. Your graves lie in
the warpath of the Indian.
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