His keen eyes distended. He had looked, prepared to behold his younger daughter, but instead his eyes fell upon Tuschota, her sister. The father noted her warlike bearing, the bow slung upon her shoulders, the arrows and knife thrust through her girdle. He saw also the sternness of her countenance. "What would you, daughter?" "Where is Onawa, my sister?" "I know not," said the sachem. "Find her and bring her forth. She led hither the Frenchman who has slain my son." The sachems turned and their black eyes glittered upon her. "It is false," cried Shuswap. "She desires to win the French doctor for husband. She brought him therefore to the lake that he might lie in wait to kill the Englishmen. One man Onawa killed with her own hand. My son is your son. Your daughter, my sister, must die." She spoke, and passed away into the glow of the forest. Shuswap dashed his grey head to the ground. "She must die," muttered the counsellors. The news travelled like an evil wind from fire to fire. All the tribes swore by their gods that the woman who had sought to betray them must die. Not till then might Shuswap lift up his head among them. They danced more cruelly, maddened by disgrace. A runner came from the depths of the forest, spots of blood thrown from his flying heels. Three hours had he run at that speed. He passed the warriors and their fires and reached the council. All the sachems sat erect, save only old Shuswap, who lay forward, his head upon the dust. "Oskelano comes upon us at the head of the tribes of the Algonquins," spoke the messenger. "They carry the fire-tubes given them by the French." The sachems sat like figures of stone. "Which way do they come?" demanded Piscotasin, surnamed Son of the Weasel, the learned chief of the Oneidas. "From the north." "They shall find us ready." The messenger passed back. Straightway the forest shivered with a wild cry for battle until the leaves were shed like rain. There came another runner. "A fire-float passes down the Father of Waters." "It is well," said the Son of the Weasel. "It is the signal of the friendly Dutch." Thereupon commenced that great advance of the confederate tribes which descendants speak of to this day. The flower and strength of the Iroquois, that great people which from time immemorial had ruled the north-eastern land from the coast to the chain of inland seas, went out to avenge their wrongs. The women rushed to find shelter from their hereditary enemies the pitiless Algonquins. The army poured away in a roaring torrent, draining the forest, leaving the fires licking the sharp breeze with forked tongues, leaving only one man behind: Old Shuswap, doubled in the dust. CHAPTER XIX. ENKINDLED.