treaty with the English and the Iroquois, and they realize that the
Iroquois may attack this place at any time with half the band of Hurons
at their back. They have no illusions as to what such an attack would
mean. They know that the French would make terms and be spared, but that
the Ottawas and the loyal Hurons would be butchered. They are
far-sighted."

Cadillac nodded heavily. "So they think that we would desert them, and
hand them over to the Iroquois? We must reassure them."

I rapped on the table. "We did desert them once," I reminded him. "They
know how we abandoned the refugee Hurons at Quebec, and they hold our
word lightly. It shames us to say this, but we must see matters as they
are. No, the Ottawas do not trust us, but they trust the English less.
It is a choice of evils. But they are shrewd enough to see that their
greatest peril lies in a truce between ourselves and the English. Then
they would indeed be between two stools. Now, they see that there are
two paths open."

Cadillac was breathing heavily. "You mean"--he asked.

I spoke slowly. "I mean," I said, "that they must either go over to the
English themselves, or succeed in embroiling us with the English."

"And they chose?"

"They did not choose. They temporized. They see the advantages of a
union with the English. A better beaver market, and plenty of brandy.
It goes hard with them that we are frugal with our muskets, while the
English keep the Iroquois well armed. Longuant says, and justly, that it