Then, on the trail itself, I leading, Luysnes next, then the River-reed. Then a hundred yards interval, and Joe de Golyer on the left rear, Kwiyeh on the right rear, and Godfrey on the trail. "And," I said, "if you catch a roving Tree-eater, slay him not, but bring him to me, for if there be any of these wild rovers, the Montagnais, in our vicinity, they should know something of what is now happening in the Canadas, and they shall tell us what they know, or I'm a Tory! Forward! Our alarm signal is the long call-note of the Canada sparrow!" CHAPTER XV WEST RIVER The Water-snake caught an Adirondack just before ten o'clock, and was holding him on the trail as I came up, followed by Luysnes and Thiohero. The Indian was a poor, starved-looking creature in ragged buckskins and long hair, from which a few wild-turkey quills fell to his scrawny neck. He wore no paint, had been armed with a trade-rifle, the hammer of which was badly loosened and mended with copper wire, and otherwise he carried arrows in a quiver and a greasy bow. Like a fierce, lean forest thing, made abject by fear, the Adirondack's sloe-black eyes now flickered at me, now avoided my gaze. I looked down at the rags which served him for a blanket, and on which lay his wretched arms, including knife and hatchet. "Let him loose," said I to the Water-snake; "here is no Mengwe but a poor brother, who sees us armed and in our paint and is afraid." And I went to the man and offered my hand. Which he touched as though I were a rattlesnake. "Brother," said I, "we white men and Oneidas have no quarrel with any Saguenay that I know about. Our quarrel is with the Canienga, and that is the reason we wear paint on this trail. And we have stopped our Saguenay brother in the forest on his lawful journey, to say to him, and to all Saguenays, that we mean them no harm." There was an absolute silence; Luysnes and Thiohero drew closer around the Tree-eater; the Water-snake gazed at his captive in slight disgust, yet, I noticed, held his rifle in a position for instant use. The Saguenay's slitted eyes travelled from one to another, then he looked at me. "Brother," I said, "how many Maquas are there camped near the Big Eddy?" His low, thick voice answered in a dialect or language I did not comprehend. "Can you speak Iroquois?" I demanded. He muttered something in his jargon. Thiohero touched my arm: "The Saguenay says he understands the Iroquois tongue, but can speak it only with difficulty. He says that he is a hunter and not a warrior." "Ask him to answer me concerning the Maqua." A burst of volubility spurted from the prisoner. Again the girl translated the guttural reply: