"Tegakwita seeks the Big Buffalo." "It cannot be for an honest reason. You lay behind the bush. You saw me here and thought me asleep, but you did not approach honestly. You crept through the shadows like a Huron." "Tegakwita's night eyes are not his day eyes. He could not see who the sleeping man was. When he heard the voice, he came quickly." Menard looked at the musket that rested in the Indian's hand, at the hatchet and knife that hung from his belt. "You are heavily armed, Tegakwita. Is it for the war-path or the hunt? Do Onondaga warriors carry their weapons from house to house in their own village?" The Indian made a little gesture of impatience. "Tegakwita has no house. His house has been dishonoured. He lives under the trees, and carries his house with him. All that he has is in his hand or his belt. The Big Buffalo speaks strangely." Menard said nothing for a moment. He looked up, with a keen gaze, at the erect figure of the Indian. Finally he said:-- "Sit down, Tegakwita. Tell me why you came." "No. Tegakwita cannot rest himself until his sister has reached the Happy Hunting-Ground." "Very well, do as you like. But waste no more time. What is it?" "The Big Buffalo has been an Onondaga. He knows the city in the valley where the dead sit in their graves. It is there that my sister lies, by an open grave, waiting for the farewell word of him who alone is left to say farewell to her. Tegakwita's Onondaga brothers will not gather at the grave of a girl who has given up her nation for a white dog. But he can ask the Big Buffalo, who brought the white dog to our village, to come to the side of the grave." "Your memory is bad, Tegakwita. It was not I who brought the white brave. It was you who brought him, his two hands tied with thongs." The Indian stood, without replying, looking down at him with brilliant, staring eyes. Menard spoke again. "You want me to go with you. You slip through the bushes like a snake, with your musket and your knife and your hatchet, to ask me to go with you to the grave of your sister. Do I speak rightly, Tegakwita?" "The Big Buffalo has understood." Menard slowly rose and looked into the Indian's eyes. "I have no weapons, Tegakwita. The chiefs who have set me free have not yet returned the musket which was taken from me. It is dangerous to go at night through the forest without a weapon. Give me your hatchet and I will go with you." Tegakwita's lip curled almost imperceptibly. "The White Chief is afraid of the night?" Menard, too, looked scornful. He coolly waited. "The Big Buffalo cannot face the dead without a hatchet in his hand?" said Tegakwita.