"It has further been reported to me by the Palatine scout that the Onondagas are wavering, that the Oneidas are disposed to stand our friends, that the Tuscaroras are anxious to remain neutral.
"Now, within a few days, news has reached me that these three doubtful nations are to be persuaded by an unknown woman who is, they say, the prophetess of the False-Faces."
He paused, looking straight at Dorothy.
"From your knowledge," he said, slowly, "tell me who is this unknown woman."
"Do you not know, sir?" she asked, simply.
"Yes, I think I do, child. It is Magdalen Brant."
"Yes," she said, quietly; "from childhood she stood as prophetess of the False-Faces. She is an educated girl, sweet, lovable, honorable, and sincere. She has been petted by the fine ladies of New York, of Philadelphia, of Albany. Yet she is partly Mohawk."
"Not that charming girl whom I had to dinner?" I cried, astonished.
"Yes, cousin," she said, tranquilly. "You are surprised? Why? You should see, as I have seen, pupils from Dr. Wheelock's school return to their tribes and, in a summer, sink to the level of the painted sachem, every vestige of civilization vanished with the knowledge of the tongue that taught it."
"I have seen that," said Schuyler, frowning.