mpathy, and he wondered that all this great
world of summer green and winter white, and of blue and green and
lead-coloured water could for so long have influenced him without
consciousness on his part. But his life had left little time for such
thoughts; to-night he was unstrung.

Over the noise of the leaves and the trickle of the spring sounded a
rustle. It was not loud, but it was a new sound, and his eyes sought
the bushes. The noise came, and stopped; came, and stopped. Evidently
someone was creeping slowly toward the hut; but the sound was on the
farther side of him, so that he could reach the maid's side before
whoever was approaching could cross the clearing.

For a time the noise died altogether. Then, after a space, his eyes,
sweeping back and forth along the edge of the brush, rested on a
bright bit of metal that for an instant caught the light of the sky,
probably a weapon or a head ornament. Menard was motionless. Finally
an Indian stepped softly out and stood beside a tree. When he began to
move forward the Captain recognized Tegakwita, and he spoke his name.

The Indian came rapidly over the grass with his finger at his lips.

"Do not speak loud," he whispered. "Do not wake the holy Father."

"Why do you come creeping upon my house at night, like a robber?"

"Tegakwita is sad for his sister. His heart will not let him go among
men about the village; it will not let his feet walk on the common
path."

"Why do you come?"

"Tegakwita seeks the Big Buffalo."

"It cannot be for an honest reason. You lay behind the bush. You saw
me here and thought me asleep, but you did not approach honestly. You
crept through the shadows like a Huron."

"Tegakwita's night eyes are not his day eyes. He could not see who the
sleeping man was. When he heard the voice, he came quickly."

Menard looked at the musket that rested in the Indian's hand, at the
hatchet and knife that hung from his belt.

"You are heavily armed, Tegakwita. Is it for the war-path or the hunt?
Do Onondaga warriors carry their weapons from house to house in their
own village?"

The Indian made a little gesture of impatience.

"Tegakwita has no house. His house has been dishonoured. He lives
under the trees, and carries his house with him. All that he has is in
his hand or his belt. The Big Buffalo speaks strangely."

Menard said nothing for a moment. He looked up, with a keen gaze, at
the erect figure of the Indian. Finally he said:--