"Our brothers, the Senecas, have sent to us for aid. We have been called to the Long House to hear the voice of the Senecas,--not from the lips of their chiefs, for they have fields and villages to guard against the white man, and they are not here to stand before the council and ask what an Iroquois never refuses. The Cayuga has spoken with the voice of the Seneca. Shall the chiefs and warriors of the Long House say to the Cayuga, 'Go back to your village and send messengers to the Senecas to tell them that their brothers of the Long House have corn and squaws and children that are more to them than the battles of their brothers--tell the Senecas that the Oneidas must eat and cannot fight'? There is corn in the fields of the Oneidas. But there is food for all the Five Nations in the great house on the Lake." The speaker paused to let his words sink in. Menard whispered to the maid, in reply to an inquiring look. "He means the Governor's base of supplies at La Famine." The Onondaga's voice began to rise. "When the Oneida thinks of his corn, is he afraid to leave it to his squaws? Does he hesitate because he thinks the white warriors are strong enough to turn on him and drive him from his villages? This is not the speech that young warriors are taught to expect from the Long House. When has the Long House been guided by fear? No. If the Oneida is hungry, let him eat from the stores of the white man, at the house on the Lake. The Cayugas and Onondagas will draw their belts tighter, that the Oneida may be filled." The young chief looked defiantly around. There was a murmur from the outer circle, but the chiefs were grave and silent. The Hundred Skins gazed meditatively into the fire as if he had not heard, slowly puffing at his pipe. The taunt of cowardice had sprung out in the heat of youth; his dignity demanded that he ignore it. The speech had its effect on the Cayugas and the young men, but the older heads were steady. Other chiefs rose, talked, and resumed their places, giving all views of the situation and of the relations between the Iroquois and the French,--but still little expression showed on the inner circle of faces. The maid after a time grew more accustomed to the smoke, and sat up. She was puzzled by the conflicting arguments and the lack of enthusiasm. Fully two hours had passed, and there was no sign of an agreement. The eager spectators, in the outer rows, gradually settled down. During a lull between two speeches, Menard spoke to the maid, who was beginning to show traces of weariness. "It may be a long sitting, Mademoiselle. We must make the best of it." "Yes." She smiled. "I am a little tired. It has been a hard day." "Too hard, poor child. But I hope to see you safe very soon now. I am relying on the Big Throat. He, with a few of the older chiefs, sees farther than these hot-heads. He knows that France must conquer in the end, and is wise enough to make terms whenever he can."