Chill after chill crept over me so that I shook as I lay there in the darkness “Who is this maiden, Lois?” I asked.

“Do you not guess, Loskiel?”

“Vaguely.”

“Then listen, brother.  Her grandfather was the great Jean Coeur who married the white daughter of the Chevalier de Clauzun.  Her mother was Mlle. Jeanne Coeur; her father the young Vicomte de Contrecoeur, of the Regiment de la Reine—­ not that stupid Captain Contrecoeur of the regiment of Languedoc, who, had it depended on him, would never have ventured to attack Braddock at all.

“This is true, because I knew them both—­ both of these Contrecoeur captains.  And the picture she showed to me was that of the officer in the Regiment de la Reine.

“I saw that regiment die almost to a man.  I saw Dieskau fall; I saw that gay young officer, de Contrecoeur, who had nicknamed himself Jean Coeur, laugh at our Iroquois as he stood almost alone—­ almost the last man living, among his fallen white-coats.

“And I saw him dead, Loskiel—­ the smile still on his dead lips, and his eyes still open and clear and seeming to laugh up at the white clouds sailing, which he could not see.

“That was the man she showed me painted on polished bone.”

“And—­ her mother?” I asked.

“I can only guess, Loskiel, for I never saw her.  But I believe she must have been with the army.  Somehow, Sir William’s Senecas got hold of her and took her to Catharines-town.  And if the little Lois was born there or at Yndaia, or perhaps among the Lakes before the mother was made prisoner, I do not know.  Only this I gather, that when the Cats of Amochol heard there was a child, they demanded it for a sacrifice.  And there must have been some Seneca there—­ doubtless some adopted Seneca of a birth more civilized—­ who told the mother, and who was persuaded by her to make of it a Hidden One.

“How long it lay concealed, and in whose care, how can I know?  But it is certain that Amochol learned that it had been hidden, and sent his Cat-People out to prowl and watch.  Then, doubtless did the mother send it from her by the faithful one whose bark letter was found by the new foster-parents when they found the little Lois.

“And this is how it has happened, brother.  And that the Cat-People now know she is alive, and who she is, does not amaze me.  For they are sorcerers, and if one of them did not steal after the messenger when he left Yndaia with the poor mother’s yearly gift of moccasins, then it was discovered by witchcraft.”

“For Amochol never forgets.  And whom the Red Priest chooses for his altar sooner or later will surely die there, unless the Sorcerer dies first and his Cat-People are slain and skinned, and the vile altar is destroyed among the ashes of its accursed fire!”

“Then, with the help of an outraged God, these righteous things shall come to pass!” I said between clenched teeth.