He spoke in English, which Robert knew the Ojibway understood and which
both Frenchmen spoke fluently. The great hand of Tandakora drifted down
toward the handle of his tomahawk, but Tayoga apparently did not see
him, his fathomless eyes again staring into the fire. Robert looked at
Willet, and he saw the hunter's eye also fall upon the handle of his
tomahawk, a weapon which he knew the Great Bear could hurl with a
swiftness and precision equal to those of any Indian. He understood at
once that Tayoga was protected by the hunter from any sudden movement by
the Ojibway and his great strain relaxed.

De Courcelles frowned, but his face cleared in an instant. Robert,
watching him now, believed he was not at all averse to a quarrel between
the Onondaga and the Ojibway.

"It is not a question for me to decide," he replied. "The differences of
the Hodenosaunee and the western tribes are not mine, though His
Majesty, King Louis of France, wishes all his red brethren to dwell
together in peace. Yet I but tell to you, Tayoga, what Tandakora has
told to me. He says that you three attacked him and peaceful warriors
back there in a gorge of the river, and slew some of his comrades."

"Tandakora lies," repeated Tayoga in calm and measured tones. "It is
true that warriors who were with them fell beneath our bullets, but they
came swimming in the night, seeking to murder us while we slept, and
while there is yet no war between us. An Onondaga or a Mohawk or any
warrior of the Hodenosaunee hates and despises a snake."

The words, quiet though they were, were fairly filled with concentrated
loathing. The eyes of the huge Ojibway flashed and his clutch on the
handle of his tomahawk tightened convulsively, but the fixed gaze of the