The Cayuga bowed.

"Will my brother carry a message from the White Chief, the Big Buffalo, to his chiefs? Will he tell them, as soon as the sun has risen, that the Big Buffalo has come to talk with them?"

The warrior bowed and walked away.

"We are safe now, I think, Father. We must get what little sleep we can between now and sunrise."

"Should not one of us watch, M'sieu?"

"We are not fit for it. We have hard work before us, and many a chance yet to run."

"Teganouan will watch," said the Indian.

Menard's face showed surprise, but Father Claude whispered, "He has learned at the mission to understand our language."

They lay on the ground before the hut, in their wet clothes, and in a moment were asleep. Teganouan built a fire close at hand, and sat by it without a motion, excepting the alert shifting glances of his bead-like eyes, until, when the colours in the east had faded into blue and the sun was well above the trees, he saw the chiefs of the village coming slowly toward him between the huts, a crowd of young men following behind them, and a snarling pack of dogs running before.

He aroused Menard and Father Claude.

The chiefs sat in a circle about the fire, the two white men among them. The other Indians sat and stood in a wider circle, just within earshot, and waited inquisitively for the White Chief to state his errand.

"My brothers, the white men, have asked to speak with the chiefs of the Cayugas," said the spokesman, a wrinkled old warrior, whom Menard recognized as one of the speakers at the Long House.

"The Big Buffalo is on his way to the stone house of Onontio. He is far from the trail. His muskets and his knives and hatchets were taken from him by the Onondagas and were not returned to him. He asks that the chiefs of the Cayugas permit him to use one of their many canoes, that he may hasten to carry to Onontio the word of the Long House."

"The White Chief comes to the Cayugas, who live two sleeps away from their brothers, the Onondagas, to ask for aid. Have the Onondagas then refused him? Why is my brother so far from the trail?"

"The chiefs of the Cayugas sat in the Long House; they heard the words of the great council, that the Big Buffalo and the holy Father and the white maiden should be set free. They know that what is decided in the council is the law of the nation, that no warrior shall break it."

The little circle was silent with attention, but none of the chiefs replied.

"It was still in the dark of the night when the Big Throat came to the lodge of the Big Buffalo, and gave him the pledge of the council that he should be free with the next sun. The Big Buffalo once learned to believe the pledge of the Iroquois. When the mighty Big Throat said that he was free, he believed. He did not set a guard to sit with wakeful eyes through the night in fear that the pledge was not true.

No, the Big Buffalo is a warrior and a chief; he is not a woman. He trusted his red brothers, and rested his head to sleep. Then in the dark came a chief, a dog of a traitor, and took away his white brother and his white sister while their eyes were still heavy with sleep, and carried them far over the hills to the lake of the Cayugas. Here they hid like serpents in the long gra.s.s, and thought that they would kill them. But the Big Buffalo is a warrior. Without a knife or a musket or a hatchet he killed the Long Arrow and came across the Long Lake. He knew that the Cayugas were his brothers, that they would not break the pledge of the Long House."

The grave faces of the Indians showed no surprise, save for a slight movement of the eyes on the part of one or two of the younger men, when the Long Arrow was mentioned. Most of them had lighted their pipes before sitting down, and now they puffed in silence.

"The White Chief speaks strangely," the spokesman said at last. "He tells the Cayugas that their brothers, the Onondagas, have broken the pledge of the council."

"Yes."

"He asks for aid?"

"No," said Menard, "he does not ask for aid. He asks that the Iroquois nation restore to him what the dogs of the Long Arrow have taken away.

He has spoken to the Long House in the voice of the Great Mountain. He has the right of a free man, of a chief honoured by the council, to go freely and in peace. What if those who do not respect the law of the council shall rob him of his rights? Must he go on his knees to the chiefs? Must he ask that he be allowed to live? Must he go far back on his trail to seek aid of the Onondagas, because the Cayugas will not hold to the law?"

One of the great lessons learned during Menard's work under Governor Frontenac had been that the man who once permits himself to be lowered in the eyes of the Indians has forever lost his prestige. Now he sat before the chiefs of a great village, weak from the strain of the long days and nights of distress and wakefulness and hunger, his clothing still wet and bedraggled, with no weapon but a knife, no canoe, not to speak of presents,--with none of the equipment which to the Indian mind suggested authority,--and yet made his demands in the stern voice of a conqueror. He knew that these Indians cared not at all whether the word of the council to him had been broken or kept, unless he could so impress them with his authority that they would fear punishment for the offence.

"The Big Buffalo is a mighty warrior," said the spokesman. "His hard hands are greater than the muskets and hatchets of the Cayugas. He fights with the strength of the winter wind; no man can stand where his hand falls. He speaks wisely to the Cayugas. They are sorry that their brothers, the Onondagas, have so soon forgotten the word of the great council, Let the Big Buffalo rest his arms. The warriors of the Cayugas shall be proud to offer him food."

They all rose, and after a few grunted words of friendship, filed away to go over the matter in private council. Menard saw that they were puzzled; perhaps they did not believe that he had killed the Long Arrow. He turned to Teganouan, who had been sitting a few yards away.

"Teganouan, will you go among the braves of the village and tell them that the Big Buffalo is a strong fighter, that he killed the Long Arrow with his hands? It may be that they have not believed."

This was the kind of strategy Teganouan understood. He walked slowly away, puffing at his pipe, to mingle among the people of the village and boast in bold metaphors the prowess of his White Chief.

"They will give us a canoe," said Father Claude.

"Yes, they must. Now, let us sleep again."

They dropped to the ground, and Menard looked warningly at the circle of young boys who came as close as they dared to see this strange white man, and to hear him talk in the unp.r.o.nounceable language.

Father Claude's eyes were first to close. The Captain was about to join him in slumber when a low voice came from the door.

"M'sieu."

He started up and saw the maid holding the door ajar and leaning against it, her pale face, framed in a tangle of soft hair, showing traces of the wearing troubles of the days just pa.s.sed.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, you must not waken. You must sleep long, and rest, and grow bright and young again."

She smiled, and looked at him timidly.

"I have been dreaming, M'sieu," she said, and her eyes dropped, "such an unpleasant dream. It was after we had crossed the lake--We did cross it, M'sieu, did we not? That, too, was not a dream? No--see, my hair is wet."

"No," he said, "that was not a dream."

"We were on the land, and I was so tired, and you talked to me--something good--I cannot remember what it was, but I know that you were good. And I thought that I--that I said words that hurt you, unkind words. And when I wished and tried to speak as I felt, only the other words would come. That was a dream, M'sieu, was it not? It has been troubling me. You have been so kind, and I could not sleep thinking that--that--"

"Yes," he said, "that was a dream."

She looked at him with relief, but as she looked she seemed to become more fully awake to what they were saying. Her eyes lowered again, and the red came over her face.

"I am glad," she said, so low that he hardly heard.

"And now you will rest, Mademoiselle?"

She smiled softly, and drew back within the hut, closing the heavy door. And Menard turned away, unmindful of the wide-eyed boys who were staring from a safe distance at him and at the door where the strange woman had appeared. He sat with his back against the logs of the hut, and looked at the ants that hurried about over the trampled ground.

The sun was high when he was aroused by Teganouan, who had spent the greater part of the morning among the people of the village.

"Have you any word, Teganouan?"

"Yes. The warriors have learned of the strength of the Big Buffalo, and his name frightens them. They bow to the great chief who has killed the Long Arrow without a hatchet. They say that the Onondagas should be punished for their treachery."

"Good."

"Teganouan has been talking long with a runner of the Seneca nation."

"Ah, he brings word of the fight?"

"Yes. The Senecas have suffered under the iron hand of the Great Mountain. A great army takes up the hatchet when he goes on the war-path, more than all the Senecas and Cayugas and Onondagas together when every brave who can hold in his hand a bow or a musket has come to fight with his brothers. There were white warriors so many that the runner could not have counted them with all the sticks in the Long House. There were men of the woods in the skins and beads of the redmen; there were Hurons and Ottawas and Nip.i.s.sings, and even the cowardly Illinois and the Kaskaskias and the Miamis from the land where the Great River flows past the Rock Demons. The Senecas fought with the strength of the she-bear, but their warriors were killed, their corn was trampled and cut, their lodges were burned."