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Updated: June 13, 2025
The Lieutenant looked doubtfully at the dingy, bearded figure, then he motioned the soldiers aside. "It is Captain la Grange," he said, when Menard had entered; "he has been killed." The Lieutenant spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes were shining and he was breathing rapidly. Menard looked at him for a moment without a word, then he stepped to the door of a back room and looked in.
"These Mission girls like to ape our ways," said Menard, in French. The girl looked curiously at them, then she untied a fold of her skirt, and showed a heap of strawberries. "For the white man's squaw," she said. Mademoiselle blushed and laughed. "Thank you," she replied, holding out her hands. The girl gave her the berries, and turned away. Menard looked up as a thought came to him.
The incident of the afternoon had been gathering importance to his mind the longer he thought of it. Five years earlier Menard had been captured by the Onondagas during a fight near Fort Frontenac. They had taken him to one of their villages, south of Lake Ontario, and for days had tortured him and starved him.
Already the tan was fading from her face, here in the hut and under the protecting elms; and the whiteness of her skin gave her, instead of a worn appearance, the look of an older woman, firmer, with greater dignity. Her eyes had a deeper, fuller understanding. "I suppose that there is nothing, M'sieu nothing that we can do?" Menard shook his head. "No; nothing."
With the Indian tribes Menard had the tact, the control of a situation, that would have graced a council of great chiefs; but in matters of discipline, the blunter faculties and language of the white men seemed to give his wit no play. Now, as nearly always, he spoke abruptly. "Have you forgotten our talk of this morning, Danton?" "No," replied the boy, looking up in surprise.
It had been a typical savage thought that had led him to bring Menard to this village, where he had once lived, rather than to the one in which the chief held greater permanent authority; the scheme was too complete and too near its end for delay or failure to be considered. Still the attacking party drew nearer, swelled every moment by a new group. Then Menard saw their object.
It may be that they are coming by water as well, though I doubt it. The lake is very light. I will take the centre. You have no musket?" "No; but my eyes are good." "If you need me, I shall be close to the bushes, a dozen yards farther inland." They separated, and Menard took up his new position. Apparently the movement had stopped.
"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.
They stood listening; and both caught the faint sound of a body moving between the bushes that grew on the higher ground, close to the line of willows. Menard took up his musket and held it ready, for they had not left the country of the Iroquois. "Here he comes," whispered Father Claude. "Yes, it is Teganouan." The Indian was running toward them.
She was cleaner than most of the Indians, and was not unattractive. She came to them without hesitation. "I am Tegakwita's sister. My name is Mary; the Fathers at the Mission gave it to me." Menard hardly gave her a glance, but Mademoiselle was interested. "That is not your Indian name?" she asked. "Yes, Mary." "Did you never have another?" "My other name is forgotten."
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