“I have not known whether to tell all,” said Father Claude, after the silence. “And yet it would seem that Mademoiselle may as well know the truth now as later.”
“You have not told me?” she said, with reproach in her voice. “Must I always be a child to you, Father? If God has seen it best to place me here, am I not to help bear the burden?”
“Mademoiselle is right, Father. Hold nothing back. Three stout hearts are better than two.”
The priest looked gravely at the fire.
“The word has gone out,” he said. “The Long Arrow, by his energy and his eloquence, but most of all because he had the courage to capture the Big Buffalo in the enemy’s country with but a score of braves, now controls the village. To-morrow night the great council will 171 begin. The war chiefs of all the Cayuga and Onondaga and Oneida and Mohawk villages will meet here and decide whether to take up the hatchet against the white men. The Long Arrow well knows that his power will last only until the greater chiefs come, and he will have his revenge before his day wanes.”
“When?” asked the Captain.
“To-morrow morning, M’sieu. The feasting and dancing will begin to-night.”
The maid was looking at the priest. “I do not understand,” she said. “What will he do?”
“He means me, Mademoiselle,” said the Captain, quietly.
“Not––” she said, “not––”