"Where is der Doom Trail?" he demanded.
The Cahnuaga, badly shaken though he was, drew himself erect and folded his arms across his painted chest.
"The Rat can go to the torture-stake and not answer that question, Corlaer," he said quite simply.
"We will take you to the nearest village and let you make good your boast," threatened Ta-wan-ne-ars.
The Cahnuaga smiled.
"If I told you, none the less should I suffer at the stake," he said, "for the Ga-go-Sa Ho-nun-as-tase-ta[[1]] knows all. Do your worst, Chief of the Long House."
[[1]] Mistress of the False Faces.
A tinge of mockery colored his voice.
"Be sure that whatever you do you can not equal the ingenuity of the Ga-go-sa. Yes, I think you will come to know more about them some day, Iroquois. I seem to see pictures in the firelight of a stake, and a building with a tower and a bell that rings, and many of the Ga-go-sa dance around you, and your pain is very great. Aye, you are shrieking like a woman; you——"
He sprang, not at the Seneca but at me. His hands were around my throat before I could move. His eyes blazed into mine. His teeth gnashed at my face. A gout of blood, thick and warm, deluged me. The next thing I remembered was seeing Ta-wan-ne-ars bending over me.