th, the
falcon eyes--all denoted the pride and unbending will of the last of
the Tarhes.

"The White Eagle is again in the power of Tarhe," said the chief in
his native tongue. "Though he had the swiftness of the bounding deer
or the flight of the eagle it would avail him not. The wild geese as
they fly northward are not swifter than the warriors of Tarhe.
Swifter than all is the vengeance of the Huron. The young paleface
has cost the lives of some great warriors. What has he to say?"

"It was not my fault," answered Isaac quickly. "I was struck down
from behind and had no chance to use a weapon. I have never raised
my hand against a Wyandot. Crow will tell you that. If my people and
friends kill your braves I am not to blame. Yet I have had good
cause to shed Huron blood. Your warriors have taken me from my home
and have wounded me many times."

"The White Chief speaks well. Tarhe believes his words," answered
Tarhe in his sonorous voice. "The Lenapee seek the death of the pale
face. Wingenund grieves for his son. He is Tarhe's friend. Tarhe is
old and wise and he is king here. He can save the White Chief from
Wingenund and Cornplanter. Listen. Tarhe is old and he has no son.
He will make you a great chief and give you lands and braves and
honors. He shall not ask you to raise your hand against your people,
but help to bring peace. Tarhe does not love this war. He wants only
justice. He wants only to keep his lands, his horses, and his
people. The White Chief is known to be brave; his step is light, his
eye is keen, and his bullet is true. For many long moons Tarhe's
daughter has been like the singing bird without its mate. She sings
no more. She shall be the White Chief's wife. She has the blood of
her mother and not that of the last of the Tarhes. Thus the mistakes
of Tarhe's youth come to disappoint his old age. He is the friend of
the young paleface. Tarhe has said. Now go and make your peace with
Myeerah."

The chief motioned toward the back of the lodge. Isaac stepped
forward and went through another large room, evidently the chief's,
as it was fitted up with a wild and barbaric splendor. Isaac
hesitated before a bearskin curtain at the farther end of the
chief's lodge. He had been there many times before, but never with
such conflicting emotions. What was it that made his heart beat
faster? With a quick movement he lifted the curtain and passed under
it.

The room which he entered was circular in shape a