Whatever anger de Courcelles may have felt at the manners of the savage
he showed none at all. All the tact and forbearance which the French
used with such wonderful effect in their dealings with the North
American Indians were summoned to his aid. He spoke courteously to
Tandakora, but, as his words were in the Ojibway dialect, Robert did not
understand them. The Indian made a guttural reply and continued to gnaw
fiercely at the bone of the deer. De Courcelles still took no offense,
and spoke again, his words smooth and his face smiling. Then Tandakora,
in his deep guttural, spoke rapidly and with heat. When he had finished
de Courcelles turned to his guests, and with a deprecatory gesture,
said:

"Tandakora's heart burns with wrath. He says that you attacked him and
his party in the forest and have slain some of his warriors."

"Tandakora lies!"

It was the Onondaga who spoke. His voice was not raised, but every
syllable was articulated clearly, and the statement came with the impact
of a bullet. The tan of de Courcelles' face could not keep a momentary
flush from breaking through, but he kept his presence of mind.

"It is easy enough to call a man a liar," he said, "but it is another
thing to prove it."

"Since when," said Tayoga, haughtily, "has the word of an Ojibway, a
barbarian who knows not the law, been worth more than that of one who is
a member of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great
League of the Hodenosaunee?"