“And if you will turn and look in the other direction you will see where Andiatarocte lies,” said Tandakora.  “There are greater lakes to the west, some so vast that they are as big as the white man’s ocean, but there is none more beautiful than these.  Think, Tayoga, that when you stand here upon this hill you have Oneadatote on one side of you and Andiatarocte on the other, and all the country between is splendid, every inch of it.  Look!  Look your fill, Tayoga!  I have brought you here that you might see, that this might be your last sight before you go to your Tododaho on his star.”

The Onondaga knew that the Ojibway was taunting him, that the torture had begun, that Tandakora intended to contrast the magnificent world from which he intended to send him with the black death that awaited him so soon.  But the dauntless youth appeared not to know.

“The lakes I have seen many times,” he said.  “They are, as you truly call them, grand and beautiful, and they are the rightful property of the Hodenosaunee, the great League to which my nation belongs.  I shall come to see them many more times all through my life, and when I am an old, old man of ninety summers and winters I shall lay myself down on a high shore of Andiatarocte, and close my eyes while Tododaho bears my spirit away to his star.”

It is possible that Tandakora’s eyes expressed a fleeting admiration.  Savage and treacherous as he was, he respected courage, and the Onondaga had not shown the slightest trace of fear.  Instead, he spoke calmly of a long life to come, as if the shadow of death were not hovering near at that moment.

“Look again,” he said.  “Look around all the circle of the world as far as your eyes can reach.  It may help you a half hour from now, when you are in the flames, to remember the cool, green forest.  And I tell you, too, Tayoga, that your white friend Lennox, the one whom you call Dagaeoga, shall soon follow you into the other world and by the same flaming path.  When you are but ashes, which will be by the setting of the sun, my warriors will take up his trail, and he cannot escape us.”

“Dagaeoga will live long, even as I do,” said Tayoga calmly.  “His summers and winters will be ninety each, even as mine.  Tododaho has whispered that to me also, and the whispers of Tododaho are never false.”

Tandakora turned back toward the valley, motioning to his captive to descend, and Tayoga obeyed without resistance.  The glen was secluded, just suited to his purpose, which required time, and he did not wish the Frenchman, St. Luc, to come upon him suddenly, and interfere with the pleasure that he anticipated.

He was quite sure that the forest was empty of everything save themselves, though he heard again and for the third time the note of the bird, piercing and sweet, trilling among the bushes.

The warriors, knowing what was to be done, were doing it already, having piled many pieces of dead wood around the trunk of the lone tree in the center of the opening.  Two had cut shavings with their hunting knives, and one stood ready with flint and steel.