"Oh, M'sieu--I can't--" she took the pipe and held it awkwardly; then, with an effort, raised it to her mouth. It made her cough, and she gave it quickly to the Captain. The Indians rose gravely and filed out of the hut. "Come, Mademoiselle, we are to go." The smoke had brought tears to her eyes, and she was hesitating, laughing in spite of herself. "Oh, M'sieu, will--will it make me sick?" He smiled, with a touch of the old light humour. "I think not. We must go, or they will wonder." They found the chiefs waiting before the hut, Father Claude and Teganouan among them. As soon as they had appeared, the whole party set out through the village and over a trail through the woods to the eastward. The ill-kept dogs played about them, and plunged, barking, through the brush on either side. Behind, at a little distance, came the children and hangers-on of the village, jostling one another to keep at the head where they could see the white strangers. When they reached the bank of the lake, they found two canoes drawn up on the narrow strip of gravel, and a half-dozen well-armed braves waiting close at hand. The chief paused and pointed toward the canoes. "The Cayugas are proud that the White Chief will sail in their canoes to the land of the white men. The bravest warriors of a mighty village will go with them to see that no Onondaga arrow flies into their camp by night." He signalled to a brave, who brought forward a musket and laid it, with powder-horn and bullet-pouch, at the Captain's feet. "This musket is to tell the Big Buffalo that no wild beast shall disturb his feast, and that meat in plenty shall hang from the smoking-pole in his lodge." The canoes were carried into the water and they embarked,--Menard, the maid, and two braves in one, Father Claude and four braves in the other. They swung out into the lake, the wiry arms and shoulders of the canoemen knotting with each stroke of the paddles; and the crowd of Indians stood on the shore gazing after until they had passed from view beyond a wooded point. A few hours should take them to the head of the lake. They had reached perhaps half the distance, when Menard saw that two of his canoemen had exchanged glances and were looking toward the shore. He glanced along the fringe of trees and bushes, a few hundred yards distant, until his eyes rested on three empty canoes. He called to Father Claude's canoe, and both, at his order, headed for the shore. As they drew near, half a score of Indians came from the brush. "Why," said the maid, "there are some of the men who brought us to the lake." "Yes," replied Menard, "it is the Long Arrow's band."