Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire, assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him; that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever again dig it up." "It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio at once." Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back to the St. Lawrence. "Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not. You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits." "Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the Messasebe." "You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born in the great valley." "And the most unfortunate."