Bear? What have I not borne? Have I complained when I dig roots? Have I quivered when I was mocked? Has there been any sign of shame on my face for all the scorne on theirs? Have I said, "Give me children," when the nursing mothers pitied me? Oh, I have borne, I have borne; but this I cannot bear.
To know that you and I know the truth and that you will see the tribe wiped out before you will admit it.
That you were the Chisera's lover for the sake of what she could do for you, and your denial left her no way to prove it except by taking away the help of the gods from us all. Is not that the truth?
Would you have me ashamed before all men?
When have I not been ashamed since I married you?
Let her alone! They will kill her if she refuses to make medicine and then we shall be rid of her.
And you would permit that? (_He shifts uneasily under her gaze._) Simwa--(_With profound entreaty._) Simwa!
My sister, I think, for she has loved you even as I have, to my sorrow.
(_She turns away from him meditating some deep purpose, and from this time on the progress of that purpose in her mind is evident in her bearing toward her husband._)
(_Coming forward._) Let the Council sit. (_They sit as in_ ACT I.) Simwa, as war leader, what plan have you?
It wants not plans so much as men to do them.
Whatever is in any man's mind for the good of the tribe, let it be delivered. Observe not the rule of the elders, but speak at once. (_A moment, during which black looks are cast at_ SIMWA.) Will no one speak?
Chief and tribesmen, once I gave counsel and you despised it--
It is the same counsel, but time has not mended the occasion. Penned here on the edge of the precipice we can but starve. We must break through our enemies and strike at their women and their stores.
Every trail is watched. Not so much as a weasel can go in and out from Toorape and they not know it.
With so many watchers, then, they cannot have much of a fighting force at any point. In an hour it will be dark; we shall go down by Deer Leap with the women and children, and stay not for fighting, but, fleeing for our lives, break through to their villages--
But if they move on us to-night? If the vultures have already betrayed us--even now they may be within earshot?