nt of
his trial. It was the inability to fight, the lack of freedom, of
weapons, the sense of helplessness, that had come nearer to
demoralizing Menard than a hundred battles. He had been trusted with
the life of a maid, and, more important still, with the Governor's
orders. He was, it seemed, to fail.

The maid stood looking after him. She heard him drop to the ground
within. Then she roamed aimlessly about, near the building.

Father Claude came up the path, walking slowly and wearily, and
entered the hut. A moment later Menard appeared in the doorway and
called:--

"Mademoiselle." As she approached, he said gravely, "I should like it
if you will come in with us. It is right that you should have a voice
in our councils."

She followed him in, wondering.

"Father Claude has news," Menard said.

The priest told them all that he had been able to learn. Runners had
been coming in during the night at intervals of a few hours. They
brought word of the landing of the French column at La Famine. The
troops had started inland toward the Seneca villages. The Senecas were
planning an ambush, and meanwhile had sent frantic messages to the
other tribes for aid. The Cayuga chiefs were already on the way to
meet in council with the Onondagas. The chance that the attack might
be aimed only at the Senecas, to punish them for their depredations of
the year before, had given rise to a peace sentiment among the more
prudent Onondagas and Cayugas, who feared the destruction of their
fields and villages. Up to the present, none had known where the
French would strike. But, nevertheless, said the priest, the general
opinion was favourable to taking up the quarrel with the Senecas.

Further, the French were leaving a rearguard of four hundred men in a
hastily built stockade at La Famine, and the more loose-tongued
warriors were already talking of an attack on this force, cutting the
Governor's communications, and then turning on him from the rear,
leaving it to the Senecas to engage him in front.

CHAPTER IX.

THE WORD OF AN ONONDAGA.

For a long time after Father Claude had finished speaking, the three
sat talking over the situation. Even the maid had suggestions. But
when all had been said, when the chances of a rescue by the French, or
of getting a hearing before the council, even of a wild dash for
liberty, had been gone over and over, their voices died away, and the
silence was eloquent. D'Orvilliers would know tha