Still no answer.

“Tododaho, the patron saint of the Onondagas, is hidden on his star, which is now on the other side of the world, and he cannot help you.”

And still no answer.

“Does not fear strike into your heart, Tayoga?  The flames that will burn you are soon to be lighted.  You are young, but a boy, you are not a seasoned warrior, and you will not be able to bear it.”

Tayoga laughed aloud, a laugh full and hearty.  “I have heard frogs croak in the muddy edge of a pond,” he said.  “I could not tell what they meant, but there was as much sense in their voices as in yours, Tandakora.”

“At last you have found your tongue, youth of the Onondagas.  You have heard the frogs croak, but your voice at the stake will sound like theirs.”

“The flames shall not be lighted around me, Tandakora.”

“How do you know?”

“Tododaho has whispered in my ear the promise that he will save me.  Twice has he whispered it to me as we marched.”

“Tododaho in life was no warrior of the Ojibways,” said Tandakora, “and since he has passed away he is no god of ours.  His whispers, if he has whispered at all to you, are false.  There is less than half an hour in which you can be saved, and Manitou himself would need all that time.”

Tayoga gave him a scornful look.  Tandakora was talking sacrilege, but he had no right to expect anything else from a savage Ojibway.  He refused to reply.  They came presently to the little valley that Tandakora had in mind, an open place, with a tree in the center, and much dead wood scattered about.  Tayoga knew instinctively that this was their destination, and his heart would have sunk within him had it not been for the whispers of Tododaho that he had heard on the march.  The Ojibway gave the word and the file of warriors stopped.  The hills enclosing the valley were much higher on the right than elsewhere, and touching Tayoga on the arm, he said: 

“Walk with me to the crest there.”

Tayoga, without a word, walked with him, while the other warriors stood watching, musket or rifle in hand.

The Onondaga, wrists bound behind him, knew that he did not have the slightest chance of escape, even if he made a sudden dash into the woods.  He would be shot down before he went a dozen steps, and his pride and will restrained the body that was eager for the trial.

They reached the crest, and Tayoga saw then that the hill itself rose from a high plateau.  When he gazed toward the east he saw a vast expanse of green wilderness, beyond it a ribbon of silver, and beyond the silver high green mountains, outlined sharply against a sky of clear blue.

“Oneadatote,” said Tandakora.

“Yes, it is the great lake,” said Tayoga.