make the water
golden with promise. As they swung their paddles, the maid with them,
their eyes were full of dreams,--all save Teganouan. His eyes were
keen and cunning, and when they looked to the north it was not with
thoughts of home. It may be that he was dreaming of the deed which
might yet win back his lost name as an Onondaga warrior.

The sun hung over the lake when at last the canoe touched the beach.
They ate their simple meal almost in silence, and then sat near the
fire watching the afterglow that did not fade from the west until the
night was dark and the moon high over the dim line that marked the
eastern end of the lake. The sense of relief that had come to them
with the first sight of the lake was fading now. They were thinking of
Frontenac, and of what might await them there,--the priest soberly,
the maid bravely, the Captain grimly. Later, when the maid had said
good-night, and Father Claude had wandered down the beach to the
water's edge, Menard dragged a new log to the fire and threw it on,
sending up the flame and sparks high above the willows of the bank. He
stretched out and looked into the flames.

Teganouan, who had been lying on the sand, heard a rustle far off in
the forest and raised his head. He heard it again, and rose, standing
motionless; then he took his musket and came toward the fire. The
Captain lay at full length, his chin on his hands. He was awake, for
his eyes were open, but he did not look up. The Indian hesitated, and
stood a few yards away looking at the silent figure, as if uncertain
whether to speak. Finally he stepped back and disappeared among the
willows.

Half an hour went by. Father Claude came up the beach, walking
slowly.

"It is growing late, M'sieu, for travellers."

Menard glanced up, but did not reply. The priest was looking about the
camp.

"Where is Teganouan, M'sieu? Did you give him permission to go away?"

"No; he is here,--he was here." Menard rose. "You are right, he has
gone. Has he taken his musket?"

"I think so. I do not see it."

"He left it leaning against the log. No; it is not there. Wait,--do
you hear?"

They stood listening; and both caught the faint sound of a body moving
between the bushes that grew on the higher ground, close to the line
of willows. Menard took up his musket and held it ready, for they had
not left the country of the Iroquois.

"Here he comes," whispered Father Claude. "Yes, it is Teganouan."

The Indian was ru