"What is it?" I asked, slipping it inside my leather shirt.
"A most powerful Orenda," she whispered mysteriously. "I had it made by Hineogetah, the Medicine Man. It is proof against spirits and bullets. It will turn a scalping-knife and resist a tomahawk."
"But what is it?" I persisted.
She looked around to make sure that nobody was within hearing distance. Donehogaweh was holding a final discussion with Tawannears, and the interest of the crowd was concentrated upon them.
"The fang of a bull rattlesnake," she said, ticking the items off on her fingers. "That is the spirit to resist evil. The eye-tooth of a wolf that was slain by Sonosowa of the Turtle Clan, for, of course, no Wolf could slay a wolf, in act of making his kill. That is the spirit to resist courage. A coal from the Ever-burning Fire at Onondago. That is the spirit to resist disease. It is the most powerful Orenda that Hineogetah has ever made, and I pray that it will keep you safe, for I think you will need it, Otetiani, a white man venturing into the Land of Lost Souls, where the wrath of Tharon may fall at any moment."
"But what of Corlaer?" I asked, amused as well as touched by this essentially feminine point of view.
"Oh, he is different!" she said.
I would have said more to her, but Tawannears turned from his uncle and slung his furled buckskin shirt across his naked shoulders.
"Come, brother," he called to me. "We must go."
I stooped quickly and kissed Guanaea on her wrinkled cheek. She drew back, startled, and raised her hand to the spot my lips had touched.