issionary,
Father Drouillard, and the French leader, St. Luc. They say that words
flowed like honey from your lips."

"It was the occasion, not any words of mine," said Robert modestly.

"I was ill then, and could not be present," continued the old chief
gravely, "and another took my place. I should have been glad could I
have heard that test of words in the Vale of Onondaga, because golden
speech is pleasant in my ears, but Manitou willed it otherwise, and I
cannot complain, as I have had much in my long life. Now the time for
words has passed. They have failed and the day of battle is at hand. I
go on my last war trail."

"No! No, Hendrik!" exclaimed Willet. "You will emerge again the victor,
covered with glory."

"Yes, Great Bear, it is written here," insisted the old Mohawk, tapping
his forehead. "It is my last war trail, but it will be a great one. I
know it. How I know it I do not know, but I know it. The voice of
Manitou has spoken in my ear and I cannot doubt. I shall fall in battle
by the shores of Andiatarocte (the Iroquois name of Lake George) and
there is no cause to mourn. I have lived the three score years and ten
which the Americans and English say is the allotted age of man, and what
could be better for a Mohawk chief, when the right end for his days has
come, than to fall gloriously at the head of his warriors? I have known
you long, Great Bear. You have always been the friend of the
Hodenosaunee. You have understood us, you have never lied to us, and
tricked us, as the fat traders do. I think that when I draw my last
breath you will not be far away and it will be well. I could not wish
for any better friend than Great Bear to be near when I leave this earth
on my journey to the star on which the mighty Hayowentha, the Mohawk
chief of long ago, lives."

Willet was much affected, and he put his hand on the shoulder of his old
friend.

"I hope you are wrong, Hendrik," he said, "and that many years of good
life await you, but if you do fall it is fitting, as you say, to fall at
the head of your warriors."

The old chief smiled. It was evident that he had made his peace with his
Manitou, and that he awaited the future without anxiety.

"Remember the shores of Andiatarocte," he said. "They are bold and
lofty, covered with green forest, and they enclose the most beautiful of
all the lakes. It is a wonderful lake. I have known it more than sixty
years. The mountains, heavy with the great forest, rise