I had bathed and dressed, but had not yet breakfasted when one of our regimental wagons came to take the box to Lois—­ a fine and noble box indeed, in its parti-coloured cowhide cover, and a pretty pattern of brass nails all over it, making here a star and there a sunburst, around the brass plate engraven with her name:  “Lois de Contrecoeur.”

Then the wagon drove away, and the Sagamore and I broke bread together, seated in the willow shade, the heat in our bush-hut being insupportable.

“No more scalps, Mayaro?” I taunted him, having already inspected the unpleasant trophies behind the hut.  “How is this, then?  Are the Cats all skinned?”

He smiled serenely.  “They have crept westward to lick their scars, Loskiel.  A child may safely play in the forest now from the upper castle and Torloch to the Minnisink.”

“Has Amochol gone?”

“To make strong magic for his dead Cats, little brother.  The Siwanois hatchets are still sticking in the heads of Hiokatoo’s Senecas.  Let their eight Sachems try to pull them out.”

“So you have managed to wound a Seneca or two?”

“Three, Loskiel—­ but the rifle was one of Sir William’s, and carried to the left, and only a half-ounce ball.  My brother Loskiel will make proper requisition of the Commissary of Issues and draw a weapon fit for a Mohican warrior.”

“Indeed I will,” said I, smilingly, knowing well enough that the four-foot, Indian-trade, smooth bore was no weapon for this warrior; nor was it any kindness in such times as these to so arm our corps of Oneida scouts.

After breakfast I went to the fort and found that Major Parr and his command had come in the night before from their long and very arduous scout beyond the Canajoharrie Castle.

The Major received me, inquiring particularly whether I had contrived to keep the Sagamore well affected toward our cause; and seemed much pleased when I told him that this Siwanois and I had practiced the rite of blood-brotherhood.

“Excellent,” said he.  “And I don’t mind admitting to you that I place very little reliance on the mission Indians as guides—­ neither on the Stockbridge runners nor on the Oneidas, who have come to us more in fear of the Long House than out of any particular loyalty or desire to aid us.”

“That is true, sir.  They had as soon enter hell as Catharines-town.”

The Major nodded and continued to open and read the letters which had arrived during his absence.

“May I draw one of our rifles for my Mohican, sir?” I asked.

“We have very few.  Schott’s men have not yet all drawn their arms.”

“Nevertheless——­”

“You think it necessary?”

“I think it best to properly arm the only reliable guide this army has in its service, Major.”

“Very well, Mr. Loskiel....  And see that you keep this fellow in good humour.  Use your own wit and knowledge; do as you deem best.  All I ask of you is to keep this wild beast full fed and properly flattered until we march.”