Tawannears regained his feet with the agility of a catamount.
"Yo-hay!"* he boomed.
* "I have heard," i.e., approved.
"Goodt," pronounced Corlaer solemnly.
"'Tis well," endorsed the governor. "You'll not regret it, Ormerod. There's much to do. Let's to it."
CHAPTER II
THE WILDERNESS TRAIL
The sun was already well above the horizon, but the light that stole through door and smoke-hole struggled unsuccessfully with the gloom of the Council House. From my seat of honor opposite the doorway I could make out only a few of the silent figures of Royanehs and chieftains sitting in concentric circles around the pit in which burned the tribal Council Fire of the Senecas. But as I watched, the direct rays of the sun crept over the earthen threshold, and Donehogaweh, sitting at my left, extended his sinewy arm and dropped a handful of tobacco leaves upon the smoldering coals in the fire-pit. A single column of smoke, hazily blue, rose straight in the air, and the acrid odor of the tobacco permeated the room.
"Oh, Hawenneyo," intoned the Guardian of the Western Door, "and you, Tharon, the Sky-holder, and Heno, Master of the Thunder, and Gaoh, Lord of the Winds, you too, oh, Three Sisters of the Deohako, Our Supporters, and the Honochenokeh, Aids of the Great Spirit and Ministers of his Mercy, heed our prayer! Open your ears to the words we send you by the smoke which rises from our Council Fire!"