"Yes, brother," he answered. "The time will come when the white man will push the Indian out of all this country."
"But where will your people go?" I asked.
"Who knows? Only Hawenneyu can tell. Perhaps he will care for them in some new land, out there, beyond the sunset."
And Tawannears waved his hand toward the kindling glory that overhung the west.
The governor leaned forward in his chair.
"Ay, that was what I had in my mind," he declared. "What lies there beyond the sunset? You know something of it, Tawannears, but you do not know all. 'Tis knowledge of that I crave. In a manner of speaking 'tis that brings us together here."
He was silent for a moment, and we all watched him, resting his chin upon the clasped hands that supported his cane, his eyes glued upon the Western sky.
"Tell your story, Tawannears," he said abruptly. "That is the simplest way to expound an involved situation. And do you heed him, Ormerod. There is more than a whim of mine in this. It may be your own future well-being is at stake."
I fixed my eyes upon the Indian's face.
"Yes, tell your story," I urged.