"We can leave them here. The leaves will hide them. I will put the hatchet under this log." He made a motion of dropping the hatchet, closely watching the Indian; then he straightened, for Tegakwita's right hand held the musket, and his left rested lightly on his belt, not a span from his long knife. "The White Chief knows the danger of leaving weapons to tempt the young braves. He finds it easy to take the chance with Tegakwita's hatchet." "Very well," said Menard, sternly. "Lead the way." They walked slowly between the mounds. Menard looked carefully about, but in the uncertain light he could see no sign of a new opening in any of them. When they had passed the centre he stopped, and said quietly:-- "Tegakwita." The Indian turned. "Where is the grave?" "It is beyond, close to the great oak." "Ah!" They went on. The great oak was in a dense, deep-shadowed place, at the edge of the circle. A little to one side, close to the crowding thicket, was a small, new mound. Looking now at Tegakwita, Menard could see that his front was stained with the soil. Probably he had spent the day working on the mound for his sister. While Menard stood at one side, he went to a bush that encroached a yard on the sacred ground and drew out a number of presents, with necessary articles and provisions to stay the soul on its long journey to the Happy Hunting-Ground. It was at the end of Menard's tongue to repeat Tegakwita's remark about hiding the weapons, but he held back and stood silently waiting. "Come," said the Indian. He parted the bushes, drew away a heavy covering of boughs, and there, wrapped in Tegakwita's finest blanket, lay the body of the Indian girl. Menard stood over it, looking down with a sense of pity he had never before felt for an Indian. He could not see her face, for it was pressed to the ground, but the clotted scalp showed indistinctly in the shadow. He suddenly raised, his eyes to Tegakwita, who stood opposite. "What have you done with the white brave?" he said in fierce, low tones. "What have you done with him?" Tegakwita raised one arm and swept it about in a quarter circle. "Ask the vultures that come when a man falls, ask the beasts that wait for everyone, ask the dogs of the village. They can tell you, not I."