The Indian said cunningly:
"Why has my brother Loskiel abandoned roof and fire for a bed on
the forest moss?"
"A man must do battle for his own people, Sagamore."
"A white maid may do what pleases her, too, for aught I know,"
he said indifferently.
"Why does it please her to roam abroad alone?"
"How should I know?"
"You do know!"
"Loskiel," he said, "if I know why, perhaps I know of other
matters, too. Ask me some day— before they send you into
battle."
"What matters do you know of?"
"Ask me no more, Loskiel— until your conch-horns blowing in the
forest summon Morgan's men to battle. Then ask; and a Sagamore will
answer— a Siwanois Mohican— of the magic clan. Hiero!"
That ended it; he had spoken, and I was not fool enough to urge
him to another word.
And now, as I rode, m
