y're coming at us
with clubs!" He called out in the Iroquois tongue: "Come at us,
cowards! Make an end of it! Where are your bows? your muskets? Where
is the valour of the Onondagas--of my brothers?"

The last words brought forth a chorus of jeers and yells. The two
officers stood side by side at the water's edge. Behind them,
knee-deep in the water, was Father Claude, holding the maid in his
arms. The Indians seemed to draw together, still with that evident
effort to take their game alive, for two tall chiefs were rushing
about, cautioning the warriors. Then, of a sudden, the whole body came
forward with a rush, and Menard, Danton, Father Claude, and the maid
went down; the three men fighting and splashing until they lay, bound
with thongs, on the beach.

Menard turned his head and saw that Danton lay close to him.

"Mademoiselle?" he said. "What have they done with her?"

"She is here." The reply was in Father Claude's voice. It came from
the farther side of Danton.

"Is she hurt?"

"No. But they have bound her and me."

"Bound you!" The Captain tried to sit up, but could not. "They would
not do that, Father. It is a mistake."

A warrior, carrying a musket under his arm, walked slowly around the
prisoners, making signs to them to be silent. The others had withdrawn
to the shadow of the bank; the sound of their voices came indistinctly
across the strip of shore. Indifferent to the pain in his arm, Menard
struggled at his thongs, and called to them in Iroquois: "Who of my
brothers has bound the holy Father? What new fear strikes the breasts
of the sons of the night-wind that they must subdue with force the
gentle spirit of their Father, who has given his years for his
children? Is it not enough that you have broken the faith with your
brother, the child of your own village, the son of your bravest chief?
Need you other prey than myself?"

The guard stood over Menard, and lifted his musket. Menard laughed.

"Strike me, brave warrior. Show that your heart is still as fond as on
the day I carried your torn body on my shoulder to the safety of your
lodge. Ah, you remember? You have not forgotten the Big Buffalo? Then,
why do you hesitate? The man who has courage to seize a Father of the
Church, surely can strike his brother. This is not the brave Tegakwita
I have known."

Father Claude broke in on Menard, whose voice was savage in its
defiance.

"Have patience, M'sieu. I will speak." He lifted his voice.
"T