“We must frighten her, then.”
He caught her shoulders and shook her roughly. Slowly her eyes opened, and then the 341 two men dragged her forward. At first she thought herself back among the Onondagas, and she begged them not to take her away, hanging back and forcing them almost to carry her. It cut Menard to the heart, but he pushed steadily forward. Later she yielded, and with a dazed expression obeyed. Once or twice she stumbled, and would have fallen but for the strong hands that held her. Father Claude rested his hand on her forehead as they walked, and Menard gave him an anxious, questioning glance. The priest shook his head.
“No,” he said, “there is no fever. I trust that it is nothing worse than exhaustion.”
Menard went on with relief in his eyes.
In less than half an hour after reaching the trail, they came upon the outlying huts of the village. Over the hills to the east the dawn was breaking, and all the sleeping birds and beasts and creeping things of the forest were stirring into life and movement. Teganouan went ahead of the party and soon roused a member of the Cayuga branch of his clan, the family of the Bear. Through the yawning services of this warrior they were guided to an unused hut. Teganouan searched farther, and returned with a heap of blankets for the maid, who had dropped 342 to the ground before the hut. Menard carried her within and made her as comfortable as possible, then withdrew and closed the door.
“Have the chiefs returned from the council at the village of the Onondagas?” he asked of the warrior, who stood at one side watching them with curiosity in his gaze.
The Cayuga bowed.
“Will my brother carry a message from the White Chief, the Big Buffalo, to his chiefs? Will he tell them, as soon as the sun has risen, that the Big Buffalo has come to talk with them?”
The warrior bowed and walked away.
“We are safe now, I think, Father. We must get what little sleep we can between now and sunrise.”