IN THE second tableau Jesse, who frequently took offense at the way he imagined John treated him, is drinking spirits from a bottle. John drinks also as they help one of Mary’s sons-in-law, George, and a white man named Mr. Whaley slide lumber down a hill to a river. The staggering Jesse starts a fistfight over some foolishness with George, who is soon laid low. All this time, John is silent and glowering. After Mr. Whaley mounts his horse and rides off, Jesse and John speak words and John draws a knife, which Jesse tries to take from him.

When the doctor examined Jesse’s corpse, he found that there were eighteen stab wounds from his brother’s knife.

THE LAST death, that of John: she saw the dumb show in a fading light.

The figures are silhouettes. Three men, John and two Squawky Hill Indians, ride on horseback through the woods. They drink: one slips from his saddle; one falls asleep. They recover themselves; they keep riding; they do not speak words. But then the haze around the silhouettes clears, and Mary plainly sees the two from Squawky Hill dismount and drag John down from his saddle.

Next, one of the two lifts a hatchet high in the air and brings it down with great speed on her son’s head.

To this day, some Seneca as well as some of the white river people say they do not know for sure why these things happened to my sons. Are they blind?

SHE BURIED John in a little graveyard on her land. She buried him as she had buried the others, with ceremony. There was a modest casket, pallbearers to carry it across a field, and a tall, hollow-cheeked officiant who bore the name of Great Dusk-Owl.

The casket sat next to two other graves. The wind caught the mourners’ hair and clothes and blew them aslant, upward.

Great Dusk-Owl moved his head back and forth. Though his eyes were sunken he was all alertness. He grew still and then opened his mouth and closed it again and continued turning his head from side to side. Once again, he grew still.

“These men,” he said, “died in a time of peace. Brother raised his hand against brother; tribesmen raised their hands against a tribesman. But when these three died, they were already nearly lost to us, for they had been drinking spirits with no restraint. They had given up the clear minds the Great Spirit gave them.”

He paused and then said, “When people throw out their clear minds, they throw out their freedom of choice. Bad things will happen. Dreams will stop their visitations. Corn will not be properly tended. People will scare off their own game because of their drunken stumblings. Wild laughter will turn to groans and tears. Sleep will bring no real refreshment.”