Only one or two of the Onondagas had their muskets in their hands. They all showed fright, and one was edging toward the wood. The Cayugas in the canoes, at a word from Father Claude, had raised their muskets. Menard saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and for the moment doubted the wisdom of the action. It was a question whether the Cayugas could actually be brought to fire on their Onondaga brothers. Still, this band had defied the law of the council, and might, in the eyes of the Indians, bring down another war upon the nation by their act. While he spoke, the Captain had been deciding on a course. He now walked boldly up to the man who was nearest the bushes, and snatched away his musket. There was a stir and a murmur, but without heeding, he took also the only other musket in the party, and stepped between the Indians and the forest.
“Stand where you are, or I will kill you. One man”––he pointed to a youth––“will go into the forest and bring your muskets to the canoes.”
They hesitated, but Menard held his piece ready to fire, and the Cayugas did the same. 358 At last the youth went sullenly into the bushes and brought out an armful of muskets.
“Count them, Father,” Menard called in French.
The priest did so, and then ran his eye over the party on the beach.
“There are two missing, M’sieu.”
Menard turned to the youth, who, though he had not understood the words, caught their spirit and hurried back for the missing weapons. Then the Captain walked coolly past them, and took his place in the canoe. For a long time, as they paddled up the lake, they could see the Onondagas moving about the beach, and could hear their angry voices.