it to-night," said the Captain. "They are
drinking."

"Ah, but he is not. He is guarding the hut. Come, M'sieu, it may be
that we can see him now."

Menard rose, and with the priest peered through the cracks at the rear
of the hut. After a moment they saw him, standing in the shadow of a
tree.

"You are sure it is he, Father?"

"Ah, M'sieu, I should know him."

Menard rested his hand on a strip of rotting bark in the wall. The
priest saw the movement.

"Yes," he said cautiously, "it would be very simple. But you will be
cautious, M'sieu. Of course, I do not know--I cannot tell surely--and
yet it must be that Teganouan still has a warm heart. It cannot be
that he has forgotten the many months of my kindness."

While they stood there, hesitating between a dozen hasty plans, a
light step sounded, and in an instant their eyes were at the opening.
A second Indian had joined the guard, and was talking with him in a
low voice. Father Claude gripped the Captain's arm.

"See, M'sieu,--the wampum collar,--it is the Long Arrow."

Menard laid his finger on his lips. The two Indians were not a dozen
yards away. The chief swayed unsteadily as he talked, and once his
voice rose. He carried a bottle, and paused now and then to drink from
it.

"Teganouan is holding back," whispered Menard. "See, the Long Arrow
has taken his arm--they are coming--is the door fast?"

"We cannot make it fast, M'sieu. It opens outward."

Menard sprang across to the door and ran his hands over it, but found
no projection that could be used to hold it closed. He stood for a
moment, puzzling; then his face hardened, and he fell back to where
the priest and the maid stood side by side.

"They will get in, M'sieu?"

"Yes. It is better."

They did not speak again. The moccasined feet made no noise on the
cleared ground, and it seemed a long time before they could hear the
log fall from the door. There were voices outside. At last the door
swung open, and the Long Arrow, bottle in hand, came clumsily into the
hut and stood unsteadily in the square of moonlight. He looked about
as if he could not see them. Teganouan had come in behind him; and the
door swung to, creaking.

"The White Chief is the brother of the Long Arrow," said the chief,
speaking slowly and with an effort to make his words distinct. "He
loves the Onondagas. Deep in his mind are the thoughts of the young
white brave who lived in our villages and hunted with our braves and
c