In the forest to his right a bird sang, a sweet, piercing note, and he thought the shoulders of the captive in front of him quivered for a single instant.

And well they might quiver! It was a splendid world to leave amid fire and pain, and the sweet, piercing note of the bird would remind Tayoga of all that he was going to lose.
There was no pity in the heart of Tandakora.

He was a savage and he could never be anything but a savage.

He might admire the fortitude with which Tayoga would endure the torture, but he would have no thought of remitting it on that account.

The bird sang again, or another like it, because it was exactly the same sweet, piercing note, but now Tandakora did not see the shoulders of the Onondaga quiver.