"Why did you not ask her?" But before he spake I knew why too.
"Does a Sagamore ask idle questions of a woman?" he said coldly. "Do the Siwanois babble?"
"No. And yet—and yet——"
"Birds sing, maidens chatter. A Mohican considers ere his tongue is loosed."
"Aye—it is your nature, Sagamore.... But tell me—what was it in the mention of my name that made you think of magic?"
"Loskiel, you came two hundred miles to ask of me the question that this maid had asked in every camp."
"What question?"
"Where lay the trail to Catharines-town," he said.
"Did she ask that?" I demanded in astonishment.
"It was ever the burden of her piping—this rosy-throated pigeon of the woods."