Tawannears emptied the ashes from his pipe and rose.
"My brother has pointed the reason why the red man cannot stand against the white man," he said quietly. "Outside of the Long House the powerful tribes will not hold together. The Hodenosaunee can conquer people like the Eries or the Mohicans, but we see no interest in conquering the Cherokees—and if we did not conquer you, you would not join with us."
"Because we might not join you as equals!" the Cherokee retorted hotly.
"There is no question of equality or inequality," asserted Tawannears. "But the Founders of the Great League created only so many Royanehs, and we who follow in their footsteps may not correct their work. Go to Onondaga with your belts, and Tododaho, the greatest of our Royanehs, who warms his mind by the Everlasting Fire, will make your hearts strong with wise talk. Let him tell you, better than I can, how to unite for strength."
The Cherokee rose with a stern light of resentment in his face.
"We go to Detroit," he said. "Better be allies of the Frenchman, and play one race of white man against the other, than be slaves of the Hodenosaunee."
Tawannears did not answer him and was silent until we had paddled an hour or more.
"What did you think of our talk, brother Otetiani?" he asked suddenly, peering over his shoulder at me.
"I thought that you were right," I answered.
"I am so sure I am right that I can see the whole future of the red man," he cried. "He will perish because he cannot break down his tribal barriers."