on the lands of the Hodenosaunee, and
the storm of battle would hover over all their castles and over the vale
of Onondaga. It was well for them to take long and anxious thought, and
to listen with attention to what the orators of the English and the
French would have to say.

Then Father Drouillard spoke for France. He made an impressive figure,
wrapped in his black robe, his eyes burning like coals of fire in his
thin, dead white face. Near him on the right, his Onondaga converts were
gathered, and he frequently looked at them as he told the fifty sachems
that France, the greatest and strongest son of Holy Church, was their
best friend, and their fitting ally. Such was the thread of his
discourse. He struck throughout the priestly note. He appealed not alone
to their sense of right in this world, but to the deeds they must do to
insure their entrance into the world to come. France alone could lead
them in the right path, she alone thought of their souls.

The priest spoke with intense fervor, using the tongue of the Indians
with the greatest clearness and purity. His sincerity was obvious.
Neither Robert nor Willet could doubt it for an instant, and they saw,
too, that it was making an impression. Deep murmurs of approval came
often from the converts, and now and then the whole multitude stirred in
agreement. But the fifty sachems, all except the nine Mohawks, sat as
expressionless as stones. The Mohawks did not move, but the stern,
accusing gaze they bent upon the priest never relaxed. As Robert had
foreseen, the most eloquent orator might talk a thousand years, and he
could never bring them a single inch toward France.

Willet followed the priest. He attempted no flights. He left the future
to itself and emphasized the present and the past. He recalled the
facts, so well known, that the English had always been their friends,
and the French always their enemies. The English had kept their treaties
with the Hodenosaunee, the French could not be trusted.

The hunter, too, received applause, much of it, and when he finished he
took his position in the audience beside Tayoga. Then the Chevalier de
St. Luc stood before the fifty sachems, as gallant and as handsome a
figure as one could find in either the Old World or the New, clothed in
a white uniform faced with gold, his hair powdered and tied in a knot,
his small sword, gold hilted, by his side.

The chevalier knew the children of the forest, and Robert recognized