He stopped at sight of the passion in the Seneca's face. But 'twas Corlaer who spoke first.
"That is fery stranche news, gofenor, for on der frontier there is talk that an enfoy is coming to deliver a message to der tribes at Jagara from der King of France. Joncaire is calling a grandt council to meetd in der Summer. All der Indians from beyondt der Lakes and der West vill come."
"Strange news!" repeated the governor. "You may well say so! Murray overrides our law; Joncaire sets out to build a stone fort upon our soil at Jagara; the French King sends an officer, experienced on the frontier, with a special message for a grand council of the tribes.
"All these three events come simultaneously. 'Tis impossible that accident so disposed them. Here we have the first indication of the culmination of the plot. Aye, 'tis graver than I had supposed."
Ta-wan-ne-ars laid down the unopened letter from Juggins upon the table.
"Let some other read this," he said. "But it serves no purpose. This Englishman and Ta-wan-ne-ars are brothers. Corlaer, too, will take the Englishman into his friendship—not because he carried this writing across the sea, but because he is a man to be trusted. So much is to be read in his face. And now, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, I would ask that Ta-wan-ne-ars may retire. What you have told me has clouded my heart with hatred, and I may not think straight."
His right arm swept up in the gesture of farewell, and the door closed upon his bronzed back.
"What hath happened to irk him so?" inquired the governor in surprize.
"Idt was this de Veulle who ran away with der dotter of his uncle, Do-ne-ho-ga-weh," replied Corlaer, stirred again from his habitual silence.
"I remember," interposed Colden. "'Twas some four years ago. I remember having seen the maid at a council at Albany. She was called Ga-ha-no,[[6]] a pretty child and wondrous dainty for an Indian."