"I know he does. Did you hear something walking in the thicket at the bottom of the hill?"
"It is only a bear. Perhaps he is looking for a good place in which to pass the night, but he will go much farther away."
"Why, Tayoga?"
"Because the wind is shifting about a little, and, in another minute, it will take him a whiff of the human odor. Then he will run away, and run fast. Now he is running."
"I don't hear him, Tayoga, but I take it that you know what you are saying is true."
"My ears are uncommonly keen, Black Rifle. It is no merit of mine that they are so. Why should a man talk about a gift from Manitou, when it really is the work of Manitou? Ah, the bear is going toward the south and he is well frightened because he never stops to look back, nor does he hesitate! Now he is gone and he will not come back again!"
Black Rifle glanced at the Onondaga in the dusk, and his eyes were full of admiration.
"You have wonderful gifts, Tayoga," he said. "I don't believe such eyes and ears as yours are to be found in the head of any other man."
"But, as I have just told you, Black Rifle, however good they may be the credit belongs to Manitou and not to me. I am but a poor instrument."
"Still you find 'em useful, and the exercise of such powers must yield a certain pleasure. They're particularly valuable just now, as I'm thinking we'll have an eventful night."