The Jesuit was in full view, advancing almost directly toward us, his eyes on the blue horizon. He was chanting to himself in a deep, sonorous voice, and as he drew nearer I identified the words of the Vesper Hymn:
"mens gravata crimine,
Vitae sit exul munere,
Dum nil perenne cogitat,
Seseque culpis illigat."
"I am going to speak to him," I said. "It can do no harm. He does not know we are here. Why, Tawannears, the man is fearless. He would walk straight into your musket, and defy you to shoot. Moreover, he has withstood the torture more than once, and I do not think he is right in his head. Would you be proud of killing one whose mind the Great Spirit had wrapped in a cloud?"
Tawannears was all Indian, despite his perfect English and the erudition he had absorbed from his missionary teachers. Corlaer, after a life among the red men, had imbibed many of their prejudices. My last remark turned the scale. A man whose mentality had been touched was sacred to any tribe.
The Seneca smiled unwillingly.
"Otetiani is a strong pleader. Very well. Let Black Robe live. But if he meditates treachery we must kill him, even though Hawenneyu has set him aside among men."
"He is alone," declared Peter for the third time. "Always he trafels alone. I know it. But he is no friend to us. We watch him, eh?"
"Surely," I agreed. "He is a Frenchman and our enemy. That I do not deny. But he cannot harm us. Come, we will ask him his business here. Afterwards, if necessary, we will keep watch on him."
Black Robe had halted some thirty yards south of our hiding place, and stood now on the edge of the bluff, surveying the wonderful prospect of the unbridled river, its yellow waters glistening in the sunlight, the opposite bank a low green wall two miles or more away. His lips moved in words I could not hear, and he dropped to his knees in the attitude of prayer, head bowed, and remained so many minutes, his body rigid with the ecstasy of devotion.
I waited until he had risen again, then stepped from our hiding-place and walked toward him. Tawannears and Corlaer followed me. He saw us almost at once, but he made no sign of surprise. He simply stood, facing us, his terribly maimed hands locked in front of him, his spare frame vibrant with the suppressed energy of the indomitable spirit within him.