s a dog, it is not so with all his
nation. The Great Mountain sends me to you, and I speak in his voice.
I tell you that Captain la Grange is a dog, that he has broken the
faith of the white man and the redman, that the father at Quebec and
the Great-Chief-Across-the-Water, who are so quick to punish their red
children, will also punish the white. The white men are good. They
love the Onondagas. And if any white man breaks the faith, he shall be
punished."

His voice had risen, and he was speaking in a glow that seemed to drop
a spark into each listening heart. He knew now that they believed. He
turned abruptly for the present. Father Claude was so absorbed in
following the speech, and in watching the maid, who sat with flushed
cheeks and lowered eyes, that he was not ready, and Menard stooped and
took the book. He could not avoid seeing the maid, when he looked
down; and the priest felt a sudden pain in his own heart to see the
look of utter weariness that came into the Captain's eyes.

Menard turned the leaves of the book for a moment, as if to collect
himself, and then held it open so that the Indians could see the
bright pictures. There was a craning of necks in the outer circles.

"In these picture writings is told the story of the 'Ceremonies of the
Mass applied to the Passion of Our Lord,'" he said slowly. "And our
Lord is your Great Spirit. It brings you a message; it tells you that
the white man is a good man, who punishes his own son as sternly as
his red child."

The present pleased the Big Throat. He would not let his curiosity
appear in the council, but he dropped the book so that it fell open,
seemingly by accident, and his eyes strayed to it now and then during
the last word of the speech. Menard did not hesitate again.

"I have told my Onondaga brothers that this white dog shall be
punished," he said. "When this word is given in your council in the
voice of Onontio, it is a word that cannot be broken. Wind is not
strong enough, thunder is not loud enough, waves are not fierce
enough, snows are not cold enough, powder is not swift enough to break
it." The words came swiftly from his lips. Calm old chiefs leaned
forward that they might catch every syllable. Eyes were brighter with
interest. The Long Arrow, thinking of his son and fearing lest the man
who killed him should slip from his grasp, grew troubled and more
stern. At last Menard turned, and taking the portrait from the
priest's hands held it