"Good-bye," said Ta-wan-ne-ars. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go and O-te-ti-an-i will be always in the thoughts of Ta-wan-ne-ars."
"Goodt-by," mumbled Corlaer.
"Good-bye for a while," retorted the governor. "We shall be ready to welcome you with rejoicing when you return with a brave tale to tell us."
"Good-bye," I called, and my voice choked.
I raised my right arm in the Iroquois gesture of greeting and farewell. Ta-wan-ne-ars answered in kind, motionless as a bronze statue against the dirty gray expanse of the sail. The sloop dropped her moorings and glided out into the current.
In ten minutes Peter's face was a broad white blotch at the foot of the mast and Ta-wan-ne-ars was a darker blur beside him. They sailed on into the eye of the setting sun.
"'Tis the very spirit of this land, Ormerod," observed Master Burnet as we watched. "Having finished one adventure, they seek a fresh trial of their resource and daring. Ah, well, 'tis for you and me to take their precept and strive to sharpen our wits upon some homely adventures of our own. All of us may not seek the Land of Lost Souls, but each of us may find a worth-while task upon his doorstep."
EPILOGUE
Bow down your heads, O my Readers! He-no, the Thunderer, and Ga-oh, the Old Man of the Winds, are filling the air with confusion. Our Council-Fire is dying. The smoke has drifted away. Ha-wen-ne-yu has shut his ears. The doors to Yesterday are closing.
We will dance the O-ke-wa, the Dance for the Dead, for what was has passed. It is no more. Only the memory of the wise and the brave remains. Not even the Falling Waters of Jagara can sweep away the names of To-do-da-ho and the Shining Ones of the Great League.