an' I'm willing for you to do the work."

The white teeth of Tayoga flashed into a deeper smile.

"Does our friend, the Great Bear, who calls himself Willet, grow old?"
he asked.

"Not by a long sight, Tayoga," replied Willet with energy. "I'm no
braggart, I hope, but you Iroquois don't call me Great Bear for nothing.
My muscles are as hard as ever, and my wind's as good. I can lift more
and carry more upon my shoulders than any other man in all this
wilderness."

"I but jested with the Great Bear," said Tayoga, smiling. "Did I not see
last winter how quick he could be when I was about to be cut to pieces
under the sharp hoofs of the wounded and enraged moose, and he darted in
and slew the animal with his long knife?"

"Don't speak of it, Tayoga. That was just a little matter between
friends. You'd do as much for me if the chance came."

"But you've done it already, Great Bear."

Willet said something more in deprecation, and picking up the canoe, put
it in a better place. Its weight was nothing to him, and Robert noticed
with admiration the play of the great arms and shoulders. Seen now upon
the land and standing at his full height Willet was a giant,
proportioned perfectly, a titanic figure fitted by nature to cope with
the hardships and dangers of the wilderness.

"I'm thinking stronger than ever that this is good deer country," he
said. "It has all the looks of it, since they can find here the food
they like, and it hasn't been ranged over for a long time by white man
or red. Tayoga, you and Robert oughtn't to be long in finding the game
we want."

"I think like the Great Bear that we'll not have to look far for deer,"
said the Onondaga, "and I leave my rifle with you while I take my bow
and arrows."

"I'll keep your rifle for you, Tayoga, and if I didn't have anything
else to do I'd go along with you two lads and see you use the bow. I
know that you're a regular king with it."

Tayoga said nothing, although he was secretly pleased with the
compliment, and took from the canoe a long slender package, wrapped
carefully in white, tanned deerskin, which he unrolled, disclosing the
bow, _waano_.

The young Onondaga's bow, like everything he wore or used, was of the
finest make, four feet in length, and of such powerful wood that only
one of great strength and equal skill could bend it. He brought it to
the proper curve with a sudden, swift effort, and strung it. There he
tested the string with a quick swe