From some one came a sneering laugh. Now Conrad was sure of what would be his fate. Then, on the opposite side of the council fire, a tall figure rose. Conrad's lips parted; he was about to cry out; then he held his lips closely shut with his hand.
"It is the King of Rivers! It is the King of Rivers!"
"This talk about the children of Onas is nonsense. The children of Onotio are more hateful. They come into the Long House from the north. They think nothing of their promises. They have allied themselves with our enemies; they are our enemies. There are no two words about them."
Now Quagnant rose, and standing with folded arms looked about until he had met every piercing eye. Last of all he sought the wide blue ones at the edge of the forest. Like the other Indians, Quagnant spoke eloquently.
"Brothers, we are of the extended lodge. The Long House is no mere hut like the dwelling of the Catawbas. We have made our enemies to flutter like frightened young birds. At the Catawbas and the Lenape we laugh.
"Now strangers seek to live with us in the Long House,—a great people, pale of face, with new customs and long guns. Some are our friends, some are our enemies. They have brought us good things and bad things. With the guns they have brought we have become powerful, but with the fire-water they have brought we have become mad.
"We cannot tell which among these pale-faces are our friends. Their words are not ours and their faces are not ours. They give little in exchange for much. Our furs are to them no more valuable than a few beads, our hunting-grounds no more than a few hatchets."
"It is a good day's journey from the Susquehanna to the Black Mountain," cried a voice. "This they have taken for a piece of bright cloth and a glass in which to see one's face!"
"Their traders lie to us!" cried another.