"Thendara was, and will be, but is not. In the Great Rite of the Iroquois that place where the first ceremony, which is called 'At the wood's edge,' begins is called Thendara, to commemorate the ancient place where first the Holder of Heaven talked face to face with the League's founder, Hiawatha."
The hawk-faced veteran smoked and studied the map for a while; then he removed the pipe from his mouth, and, in silence, traced with the smoking stem a path. I watched him; he went back to the beginning and traced the path again and yet again, never uttering a word; and presently I began to comprehend him.
"Yes, sir," I said; "thus will the Long House strike the Oneidas—when they strike."
"I have sent belts—as you suggested," observed Willett carelessly.
I was delighted, but made no comment; and presently he went on in his drawling, easy manner: "I can account for Sir John, and I can hold him on the Sacandaga; I can account for Haldimand only through the cowardice or treachery of Vermont; but I can hold him, too, if he ever dares to leave the lakes. For Sir Henry Clinton I do not care a damn; like a headless chicken he tumbles about New York, seeing, hearing nothing, and no mouth left to squawk with. His head is off; one of his legs still kicks at Connecticut, t'other paddles aimlessly in the Atlantic Ocean. But he's done for, Carus. Let his own blood cleanse him for the plucking!"
The gaunt Colonel replaced his pipe between his teeth and gazed meditatively into the north:
"But where's Walter Butler?" he mused.
"Is he not at Niagara, sir?" I asked.
Willett folded his map and shoved it into his breast-pocket. "That," he said, "is what I want you to find out for me, Carus."
He wheeled around, facing me, his kindly face very serious: