ng in whose service his own life had been
spent.

The Captain sat beside the maid, their backs to the logs, and watched
the shifting groups of warriors. He told her of the arrival of the Big
Throat, and of the confusion that resulted. Then for a time they were
silent, waiting for the impromptu council to reach a conclusion. The
warriors finally began to drift away, though the younger and more
curious ones still hung about. A group of braves came slowly toward
the hut.

"That is the Big Throat in front," said Menard. "The broad-shouldered
warrior beside him is the Talking Eagle, the best-known chief of the
clan of the Bear. They are almost here. We had better stand. Are you
too tired?"

"No, indeed."

Father Claude had seen the group approaching, and he joined Menard.
The Big Throat stood motionless and looked at the Captain.

"My brother, the Big Buffalo, has asked to speak with the Big Throat,"
he said at length.

Menard bowed, but did not reply.

"He asks for his release,--and for the holy man and the squaw?"

"The Big Buffalo asks nothing save what the chiefs of the Onondagas
would give to a chief taken in battle. The Long Arrow has lied to the
Big Buffalo. He has soiled his hands with the blood of women and holy
Fathers. The Big Buffalo was told by Onontio, whom all must obey, to
come to the Onondagas and give them his word. The Long Arrow was
impatient. He would not let him journey in peace. He wished to injure
him; to let his blood. Now the Big Buffalo is here. He asks that he
may be heard at the council, to give the chief the word of Onontio.
That is all."

The Big Throat's face was inscrutable. He looked at Menard without a
word until the silence grew tense, and the maid caught her breath.
Then he said, with the cool, diplomatic tone that concealed whatever
kindness or justice may have prompted the words:--

"The Big Buffalo shall be heard at the council to-night. The chiefs of
the Onondagas never are deaf to the words of Onontio."

CHAPTER XII.

THE LONG HOUSE.

The council-house was a hundred paces or more in length. The frame was
of tall hickory saplings planted in the ground in two rows, with the
tops bent over and lashed together in the form of an arch. The
building was not more than fifteen yards wide. The lower part of the
outer wall was of logs, the upper part and the roof of bark. Instead
of a chimney there was a narrow opening in the roof, extending the
length of the building