I saw the yoke of submission,
the covenant of society, once more accepted.
"Father!" she cried.
They gathered about us. I saw him look down at her with half horror on
his face. Then I noticed that she was, clad in fringed skins, that her
head covering was a bit of hide, that her hair was burned yellow at the
ends, that her foot coverings were uncouth, that her hands and arms were
brown, where not stained red by the blood in which they had dabbled. I
looked down also at myself, and saw then that I was tall, brown, gaunt,
bearded, ragged, my clothing of wool well-nigh gone, my limbs wound in
puttee bands of hide, my hands large, horny, blackened, rough. I reeked
with grime. I was a savage new drawn from my cave. I dragged behind me
the great grizzled hide of the dead bear, clutched in one hairy hand.
And somber and sullen as any savage, brutal and silent in resentment at
being disturbed, I stared at them.
"Who are you?" demanded the tall man of me sternly; but still I did not
answer. The girl's hands tugged at his shoulders. "It is my friend," she
said. "He saved me. It is Mr. John Cowles, father, of the Virginia
Cowles family. He has come to see you--" But he did not hear her, or
show that he heard.
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