known him both as friend and enemy, would shrink
when the moment came to attack the Big Buffalo single-handed, even
though taking him at a disadvantage. Now Tegakwita was hesitating, and
struggling to keep his eyes from the thicket.

"Yes, I will help you. We will close this matter now, and go back to
the village where your cowardly hands will be tied by fear of your
chiefs. Drop your musket."

"The Big Buffalo speaks in anger. Does he think to disarm Tegakwita
that he may kill him?"

"Lay your musket on the ground before us. Then I will drop the
hatchet."

Tegakwita stepped around the grave, and leaning the musket across a
stone stood by it. Menard's voice was full of contempt.

"You need not fear. The Big Buffalo keeps his word." He tossed the
hatchet over the grave, and stood unarmed. "Drop your knife."

Tegakwita hesitated. Menard took a step forward, and the knife fell to
the ground.

"Come. We will work side by side." He was surprised at Tegakwita's
slinking manner. He wondered if this Indian could by some strange
accident have been given a temperament so fine that sorrow could unman
him. To the Iroquois, gifted as they were with reasoning power, life
held little sentiment. Curiously enough, as Menard stood in the light
of the young moon watching the warrior come slowly around the grave,
which still showed above the earth the head and shoulders of the dead
girl, he found himself calling up the rare instances he had known of a
real affection between Indians.

Tegakwita stood by him, and without a word they stooped and set to
work, side by side, scraping the earth with their fingers over the
body. Tegakwita found a dozen little ways to delay. Menard steadily
lost patience.

"Tegakwita has forgotten," said the Indian, standing up; "he has not
offered the present to his sister's Oki."

"Well?" said Menard, roughly.

Tegakwita's voice trembled, as if he knew that he was pressing the
white man too far.

"The grave must be opened. It will not take long."

It came to Menard in a flash. The many delays, the anxious glances
toward the thicket,--these meant that others were coming. Something
delayed them; Tegakwita must hold the Big Buffalo till they arrived.
With never a word Menard sprang over the grave; but the Indian was
quicker, and his hand was the first on the musket. Then they fought,
each struggling to free his hands from the other's grasp, rolling over
and over,--now half erect, tramping on the s