vour and kindness of his own
Manitou on her journey. After each gift he stood erect, looking up at
the sky with his arms stretched out above his head; and at these
moments his simple dignity impressed Menard. But there were other
moments, when, in stooping, Tegakwita would glance about with nervous,
shifting eyes, as if fearing some interruption. His musket was always
in his hand or by his side. Menard took it that he still feared the
hatchet.

Then at last the ceremony was done, and the Indian with his bare hands
threw the earth over the hole in the mound. Still looking nervously
from bush to bush, his hands began to move more slowly; then he
paused, and sat by the mound, looking up with a hesitancy that
recognized the need of an explanation for the delay.

"Tegakwita's arms are weary."

"Are they?" said Menard, dryly.

"Tegakwita has not slept for many suns."

"Neither have I."

The Indian started as a rustle came from the forest. Menard watched
him curiously. The whole proceeding was too unusual to be easily
understood. Tegakwita's nervous manner, his request that the Captain
accompany him to the mound, the weapons that never left his
side,--these might be the signs of a mind driven to madness by his
sister's act; but Menard did not recollect, from his own observation
of the Iroquois character, that love for a sister was a marked trait
among the able-bodied braves. Perhaps it was delay that he sought. At
this thought Menard quietly moved farther from the undergrowth.
Tegakwita's quick eyes followed the movement.

"Come," said the Captain, "the night is nearly gone. I cannot wait
longer."

"Tegakwita has worked hard. His heart is sick, his body lame. Will the
Big Buffalo help his Onondaga brother?"

"Yes."

The Indian rose with too prompt relief.

"Your muscles need only the promise of help to give them back their
spring, Tegakwita."

"The White Chief speaks with a biting tongue."

"You have been speaking with a lying tongue. You think I do not know
why you have brought me here; you think I do not understand the evil
thoughts that fill your mind. You are a coward, Tegakwita. But you
will not succeed to-night."

The ill-concealed fright that came into the Indian's face and manner
told Menard that he was not wide of the mark. He began to understand.
Tegakwita wished to get him at work and off his guard,--the rest would
be simple. And as Menard well knew, more than one brave of the
Onondagas, who had