Edith's first object was to learn more from her young companion; but Otaitsa had told almost all she knew.
"What they will do I know not," she said; "they do not tell us women. But I fear, Edith, I fear very much; for they say our brother Walter was with Woodchuck when the deed was done."
"Not so, not so," cried Edith; "had he been so, I should have heard of it. He has gone to Albany, and had he been present I am sure he would have stopped it if he could. If your people tell truth, they will acknowledge that he was not there."
Otaitsa raised her head suddenly, with a look of joy, exclaiming,--
"I will make her tell the truth, were she as cunning a snake as he was; but yet, my sister Edith, some one else will have to die if they find not the man they seek."
The last words were spoken in a melancholy tone again; but then she started up, repeating,--
"I will make her tell the truth."
"Can you do so?" asked Edith; "snakes are always very crafty."
"I will try at least," answered the girl; "but oh, my sister, it were better for you, and Walter, and your father too, to be away. When a storm is coming, we try to save what is most precious. There is yet ample time to go; for the red people are not rash, and do not act hastily, as you white people do."
"But is there no means," asked Edith, "of learning what the intention of the tribe really is?"