All the way during our descent he was muttering to himself in his own tongue, and a black scowl covered his face. At the foot of the pine he snatched up his musket without a word, and turned into the green tunnel that debouched upon the screen of the trail.
As we stepped into the worn slot Peter came into view.
"Well!" he said phlegmatically.
"Cahnuagas," answered Ta-wan-ne-ars.
The Seneca's face became convulsed with fury.
"Cahnuaga dogs! They dare to invade territory of the Long House!"
"We can cross der Mohawk to der south branch of der trail," proposed Corlaer. "They wouldt not dare to follow us there."
"No," snarled Ta-wan-ne-ars; "we shall not step aside for them. We will attend to them ourselves."
"Hafe you a plan?" inquired the Dutchman amicably.
He never lost his temper when other people did.