"Aigh! Aighhaigh! Kwa, Kwa!" applauded the Royanehs.
Peter and I slipped out of the door as they formed in procession and took our station with Kachina—for I cannot bring myself to give her the name Gahano by which Tawannears always addressed her—to watch the formal presentation to the assemblage of Senecas gathered in the open around the gaondote, or war-post. A shout of approval came from the people when Tawannears, now Donehogaweh, was led forth by Tododaho and Ganeodiyo.
"The Guardian of the Door!" they cried. "He is favored by Hawenneyu! Kwa! Kwa!"
Kachina clapped her hands with glee—one of many tricks that proved to me her Caucasian origin.
"He has his uncle's place!" she exclaimed. "I was afraid that fat old she-ant, Guanaea, would make trouble for him. I will put a snake in her bed some night."
"Nonsense!" I rebuked her. "She is your mother. Her eyes are clouded by grief. Be kind, and she will learn to love you."
"Love me! Hai, I care not whether she loves me. I have Tawannears' love, and that is enough."
Peter plucked me by the sleeve.
"Come!" he whispered.
I followed him behind the nearest ganasote, and he pointed to a narrow opening in the wall of the forest opposite, the throat of the great trail of the Long House.