t the Lieutenant began to
speak in a subdued voice.

"We only know that it was an Indian. He has been scalped."

"Oh!" muttered Menard.

"I think he is still breathing,--he was just before you came,--but
there is no hope for him. He was stabbed in a dozen places. It was
some time before we knew--the Indian came in by the window, and must
have found him asleep. There was no struggle."

They stood again without speaking, and again the Lieutenant broke the
silence.

"It is too bad. He was a good fellow." He paused, as if searching for
a kind word for Captain la Grange. "He was the best shot at the fort
when he--when--"

"Yes," said Menard. He too wished to speak no harsh word. "Is there
anything I can do?"

"I think not. There is a strong guard about the fort, but I think the
Indian had escaped before we learned of it. I will see you before we
take further steps."

"Very well. I shall be at my quarters. Good-night."

"Good-night."

Menard walked slowly back across the enclosure. At the door of his hut
he paused, and for a long time he stood there, looking up at the quiet
sky. His mind was scattered for the moment; he could not think
clearly.

He opened his door and stepped over the log threshold, letting the
door close after him of its own weight. The hut was dark, with but a
square of dim light at the window. He fumbled for the candle and
struck a light.

There was a low rustle from the corner. Menard whirled around and
peered into the shadows. The candle was blowing; he caught it up and
shielded it with his hand. A figure was crouching in the corner, half
hidden behind a cloak that hung there. The Captain sprang forward
holding the candle high, tore down the cloak, and discovered
Teganouan, the Onondaga, bending over feeling for his hatchet which
lay on the floor at his feet. Menard caught his shoulders, and
dragging him out of reach of the hatchet, threw him full length on the
floor. The candle dropped and rolled on the floor, but before it could
go out, Menard snatched it up.

Slowly Teganouan rose to his feet.

"Teganouan comes in a strange manner to the lodge of the white
warrior," said Menard, scornfully. "He steals in like a Huron thief,
and hides in dark corners."

The Indian looked at him defiantly, but did not answer.

"My Onondaga brother does not wish to show himself in the light.
Perhaps there is some trouble on his mind. Perhaps he is governed by
an evil Oki who loves the darkness." W