"Qua, O-te-ti-an-i!"
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's right arm was lifted in the salute. The little group of Indians standing at his side on the fringe of the woods overlooking the smoking ruins of La Vierge du Bois repeated the greeting. Corlaer, his broad face with its insignificant, haphazard features shining with emotion, grasped my hand and wrung it heartily.
"You hafe der lifes of a cat, my friendt!" he exclaimed. "We hafe foundt der torture stakes with der bodies of some of your party andt——"
He paused and glanced at Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. The Guardian of the Western Door drew himself up proudly.
"Ga-ha-no did wrong," he said, "but she died as became the daughter of a roy-an-eh of the Long House."
"She died like a warrior," I replied.
"O-te-ti-an-i makes the heart of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh very glad," acknowledged the roy-an-eh. "Can he still my fears for my nephew?"
"Ta-wan-ne-ars fought like a chief," I answered. "But his heart was made very sad by the death of Ga-ha-no and his mind has wandered from him for a space."
"It will return," affirmed Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Now tell us, O my white son, do you come hither as a captive or a conqueror?"
"I come to offer the terms of Murray; but first tell me how successful you have been, so that I may know whether I should advise acceptance of what he offers."