Young Lennox blushed.

"Tayoga is my very good friend," he replied, "and he gives me praise I
don't deserve."

"When one has a gift direct from Manitou," said the Onondaga, gravely,
"it is not well to deny it. It is a sign of great favor, and you must
not show ingratitude, Dagaeoga."

"He has you, Lennox," laughed Wilton, "but you needn't say more. I
know that Tayoga is right, and I'm waiting to hear you talk in a
crisis."

Robert blushed once more, but was silent. He knew that if he protested
again the young Philadelphians would chaff him without mercy, and he
knew at heart also that Tayoga's statement about him was true. He
remembered with pride his defeat of St. Luc in the great test of words
in the vale of Onondaga. But Wilton's mind quickly turned to another
subject. He seemed to exemplify the truth of his own declaration that
all the impulses bottled up in four or five generations of Quaker
ancestors were at last bursting out in him. He talked more than all
the others combined, and he rejoiced in the freedom of the wilderness.

"I'm a spirit released," he said. "That's why I chatter so."

"Perhaps it's just as well, Will, that while you have the chance you
should chatter to your heart's content, because at any time an Indian
arrow may cut short your chance for chattering," said Carson.

"I can't believe it, Hugh," said Wilton, "because if Providence was