"Wherefer you go. Idt does not matter."
"I go to the Land of Lost Souls."
"Ja, that's all righdt," returned Corlaer. "I go with you."
"Take him, Ta-wan-ne-ars," advised the governor. "'Tis a friend you may depend upon who will follow you a week's journey for the privilege of securing your assent to the risking of his life in your service."
The hard lines of the Seneca's stern face were softened by a rare glow of feeling.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars never doubted Corlaer, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," he answered, squeezing Peter's hand in his. "He would not ask any to go with him because the peril is great. But he will be glad to have Peter by his side. We will take the first boat which leaves."
"One is sailing from der Whale's Headt wharf," suggested Peter.
"Good. Then we will say good-bye here."
"No, no, we will accompany you to the wharf," said the governor. "Where are you from, Peter?"
"I was in der Shawnees' country when I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was going upon a long journey alone. So I go to De-o-nun-da-ga-a, andt from there to Fort Orange andt here."