Tegakwita paused at the edge of the clearing, and looked around with that furtive quickness. Menard came slowly to his side.
“You will take your weapons to the grave?” asked Menard, very quietly, but with a suggestion that the other understood.
“Yes. Tegakwita has no place for his weapons. He must carry them where he goes.” 295
“We can leave them here. The leaves will hide them. I will put the hatchet under this log.” He made a motion of dropping the hatchet, closely watching the Indian; then he straightened, for Tegakwita’s right hand held the musket, and his left rested lightly on his belt, not a span from his long knife.
“The White Chief knows the danger of leaving weapons to tempt the young braves. He finds it easy to take the chance with Tegakwita’s hatchet.”
“Very well,” said Menard, sternly. “Lead the way.”
They walked slowly between the mounds. Menard looked carefully about, but in the uncertain light he could see no sign of a new opening in any of them. When they had passed the centre he stopped, and said quietly:––
“Tegakwita.”
The Indian turned.
“Where is the grave?”