“The Big Throat?”
“He must help, though to tell the truth I fear that he will be of little service. He may come in time to give us a stay; but, chief though he is, he will hardly dare overrule the Long Arrow on a matter so personal as this.”
“What is the Long Arrow’s family––the Beaver?”
“Yes.”
“But, M’sieu, that is the least of the eight families. If it were the Tortoise or the Bear 193 against us, we should have greater cause for fear.”
“True, Father, but to each family belongs its own quarrels, its own revenge. If the Big Throat should interfere too deeply, it would anger the other small families, who might fear the same treatment at some other time. And with Beaver, Snipe, Deer, and Potato united against us,––well, it is a simple enough problem.”
They were walking by the door, and Menard, as he spoke, sat on the stone which he had rolled there in the afternoon. The priest stood before him.
“I hope we may succeed, my son. I have seen this anger before, and it has always ended in the one way.”
“Of course,” the Captain replied, “it does depend on the Big Throat. He must reach here in time.”
“God grant that he may!”