hile Menard was speaking he was
moving quietly toward the door. The Indian saw, but beyond turning
slowly so as always to face his captor, made no movement. His face,
except for the blazing eyes, was inscrutable. In a moment Menard stood
between him and the door. "Perhaps it is best that I should call for
the warriors of the fort. They will be glad to find here the slayer of
their brother." His hand was on the latch.

"The Big Buffalo will not call to his brothers." The Indian's voice
was calm. Menard looked closely at him. "He has not thought yet. When
he has thought, he will understand."

"Teganouan speaks like a child."

"If Teganouan is a child, can the Big Buffalo tell why he came to the
white man's lodge?"

"Because he has slain a great white warrior, he must hide his face
like the outcast dog." Menard pointed to the scalp that hung at his
waist. "He has slain a great warrior while the hatchet lies buried in
the ground. He has broken the law of the white man and the redman. And
so he must hide his face."

"Why did not Teganouan run to the woods? Why did he come to the lodge
of the Big Buffalo?"

Menard looked steadily at him. He began to understand. The shrewd old
warrior had chosen the one hiding-place where no searching party would
look. Perhaps he had hoped for aid from the Captain, remembering his
pledge to bring punishment on La Grange. If so, he should learn his
mistake.

"Teganouan's words are idle." Menard moved the latch.

"The Big Buffalo will not open the door. Teganouan has not delivered
his message. He is not an enemy to the Big Buffalo. He is his friend.
He has come to this lodge, caring nothing for the safety of his life,
that he might give his message. The Big Buffalo will not open the
door. He will wait to hear the words of Teganouan; and then he may
call to his brother warriors if he still thinks it would be wise."

Menard waited.

"Speak quickly, Teganouan."

"Teganouan's words are like the wind. He has brought them many
leagues,--from the lodges of the Onondagas,--that he may speak them
now. He has brought them from the Long House of the Five Nations,
where the fires burn brightly by day and by night, where the greatest
chiefs of many thousand warriors are met to hear the Voice of the
Great Mountain, the father of white men and redmen. The Great Mountain
has a strong voice. It is louder than cannon; it wounds deeper than
the musket of the white brave. It tells the Onondagas and C