“Do not speak loud,” he whispered. “Do not wake the holy Father.”
“Why do you come creeping upon my house at night, like a robber?”
“Tegakwita is sad for his sister. His heart will not let him go among men about the village; it will not let his feet walk on the common path.”
“Why do you come?”
“Tegakwita seeks the Big Buffalo.”
“It cannot be for an honest reason. You lay behind the bush. You saw me here and thought me asleep, but you did not approach honestly. You crept through the shadows like a Huron.”
“Tegakwita’s night eyes are not his day eyes. He could not see who the sleeping man was. When he heard the voice, he came quickly.”
Menard looked at the musket that rested in the Indian’s hand, at the hatchet and knife that hung from his belt.
“You are heavily armed, Tegakwita. Is it 290 for the war-path or the hunt? Do Onondaga warriors carry their weapons from house to house in their own village?”
The Indian made a little gesture of impatience.