s there?"

Her voice lingered in the air like an echo of flowing water, then died
away as they moved on, until nothing sounded in the forest stillness
save the low ripple of the stream. An hour later I picked my way back to
the house and saw Sir George standing in the starlight, and Mount beside
him, pointing towards the east.

"I've found the False-Faces' trysting-place," said Mount, eagerly, as I
came up. "I circled and struck the main Iroquois trail half a mile
yonder in the bottom land--a smooth, hard trail, worn a foot deep, sir.
And first comes an Onondaga war-party, stripped and painted something
sickening, and I dogged 'em till they turned off into the bush to shoot
a doe full of arrows--though all had guns!--and left 'em eating. Then
comes three painted devils, all hung about with witch-drums and rattles,
and I tied to them. And, would you believe it, sir, they kept me on a
fox-trot straight east, then south along a deer-path, till they struck
the Kennyetto at that sulphur spring under the big cliff--you know, Sir
George, where Klock's old line cuts into the Mohawk country?"

"I know," said Sir George.

Mount took off his cap and scratched his ear.

"The forest is full of little heaps of flat stones. I could see my
painted friends with the drums and rattles stop as they ran by, and each
pull a flat stone from the river and add it to the nearest heap. Then
they disappeared in the ravine--and I guess that settles it,
Captain Ormond."

Sir George looked at me, nodding.

"That settles it, Ormond," he said.

I bade Mount cook us something to eat. Sir George looked after him as he
entered the house, then began a restless pacing to and fro, arms loosely
clasped behind him.

"About Magdalen Brant," he said, abruptly. "She will not speak to the
three nations for Butler's party. The child had no idea of this wretched
conspiracy to turn the savages loose in the valley. She thought our
people meant to drive the Iroquois from their own lands--a black
disgrace to us if we ever do!... They implored her to speak to them in
council. Did you know they believe her to be inspired? Well, they do.
When she was a child they got that notion, and Guy Johnson and Walter
Butler have been lying to her and telling her what to say to the Oneidas
and Onondagas."

He turned impatiently, pacing the yard, scowling, and gnawing his lip.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"She has gone to bed. She would eat nothing. We must take her back w