moke we saw was a
secret signal; that hag was scuttling around to collect the False-Faces
for a council. They may mean war; I'm sure they mean it, though Brant
wore no war-paint. But war has not yet been declared; it is no scant
ceremony when a nation of the Iroquois decides on war. And if the
confederacy declares war the ceremonies may last a fortnight. The
False-Faces must be heard from first. And, Heaven help us! I believe
their fires are lighted now."

"What ghastly manner of folk are these False-Faces?" I asked.

"A secret clan, common to all Northern and Western Indians, celebrating
secret rites among the six nations of the Iroquois. Some say the
spectacle is worse than the orgies of the Dream-feast--a frightful
sight, truly hellish; and yet others say the False-Faces do no harm, but
make merry in secret places. But this I know; if the False-Faces are to
decide for war or peace, they will sway the entire confederacy, and
perhaps every Indian in North America; for though nobody knows who
belongs to the secret sect, two-thirds of the Mohawks are said to be
numbered in its ranks; and as go the Mohawks, so goes the confederacy."

"How is it you know all this?" I asked, amazed.

"My playmate was Magdalen Brant," she said. "Her playmates were pure
Mohawk."

"Do you mean to tell me that this painted savage is kin to that lovely
girl who came with Sir John and the Butlers?" I demanded.

"They are related. And, cousin, this 'painted savage' is no savage if
the arts of civilization which he learned at Dr. Wheelock's school count
for anything. He was secretary to old Sir William. He is an educated
man, spite of his naked body and paint, and the more to be dreaded, it
appears to me.... Hark! See those branches moving beside the trail!
There is a man yonder. Follow me."

On the sandy bank our shoes made little sound, yet the unseen man heard
us and threw up a glittering rifle, calling out: "Halt! or I fire."

Dorothy stopped short, and her hand fell on my arm, pressing it
significantly. Out into the middle of the trail stepped a tall fellow
clad from throat to ankle in deer-skin. On his curly head rested a
little, round cap of silvery mole-skin, light as a feather; his
leggings' fringe was dyed green; baldrick, knife-sheath, bullet-pouch,
powder-horn, and hatchet-holster were deeply beaded in scarlet, white,
and black, and bands of purple porcupine-quills edged shoulder-cape and
moccasins, around which were painted or