alled the mighty Big Throat his father. He never forgets what the
Onondagas have done for him. He has a grateful heart." The effort of
speaking was confusing to the chief. He paused, as if to collect his
ideas, and looked stupidly at the three silent figures before him.
"... grateful heart," he repeated. "The Long Arrow has a grateful
heart, too. He remembers the kind words of the white men who come to
his village and tell him of the love of the Great Mountain. He never
forgets that the Big Buffalo is his brother--he never forgets. When
the Big Buffalo took his son from the hunting party of the Onondagas
he did not forget."

Menard did not listen further. He was looking about the hut with
quick, shifting eyes, now at the chief in the moonlight, now at
Teganouan, who stood at one side in the shadow, now at the door. Could
Teganouan be trusted to help them? He glanced sharply at the warrior,
who was looking at his chief with an alert, cunning expression. His
musket lay carelessly in the hollow of his arm, his knife and hatchet
hung at his waist. The chief had only his knife; in his hand was the
bottle, which he held loosely, now and then spilling a few drops of
the liquor.

"The Long Arrow nev'r f'rgets,"--the chief's tongue was getting the
better of him. "His house is lonely, where the fire burns alone and
the young warr'r who once laid 's blanket,--laid 's blanket by the
fire, no long'r 's there to warm the heart of the Long Arrow. But now
his loneliness is gone. Now when he comes from the hunt to 's house
he'll find a new fire, a bright fire, and a new squaw to warm 's
heart--warm 's heart." He swayed a little as he spoke, and Teganouan
took a short step forward; but the chief drew himself up and came
slowly across the patch of moonlight. His eyes were unnaturally
bright, and they rolled uncertainly from one to another of the little
group before him. His coarse black hair was matted and tangled, and
the eagle feathers that at the council had stood erect from his head
now drooped, straggling, to one side.

The maid had understood. The two men drew close to her on each side,
and her hand rested, trembling, on Menard's arm. All three were
thinking fast. One scream, the sound of a struggle or even of loud
voices, would bring upon them the whole drunken band. As the chief
approached, the maid could feel the muscles harden on the Captain's
arm.

"Long Arrow's lonely--his fire's not bright when he comes from hunt--"
Her