I would have asked questions, for I craved more news, but before the
words could form, since I am slow, the woman spoke.

"Nadouk!" she exclaimed. "I understand that word. It means Huron.
Are the Hurons pursuing us?"

Her woman's voice echoed oddly in that smoke-grimed place. Onanguissé
looked up. I have lived among Indians, and know some sides of their
nature, but I am never prepared for what they may do. The old chief
stared and then rose. "A white thrush!" he said, and he looked at
Father Nouvel for explanation.

"They come to be married," the priest hastened. "Have you an empty
lodge for the maiden?"

Onanguissé listened, then walked to the woman, and looked at her as he
would study a blurred trail in the forest. She bore his scrutiny well,
and he grunted approval. Now that he had risen he was impressive. He
was tall, and had that curious, loose-jointed suppleness that, I have
heard women say, comes only from gentle blood. As he stood beside
Father Nouvel it came to me that the two men were somewhat kin. One
face was patrician and the other savage, but they were both old men who
bore their years with wisdom and kept the salt of humor close at hand.
The chief turned to me.

"To marry? It is the moon of flowers, and the birds are mating. It is
well. The white thrush shall sleep in my lodge to-night. I will go
elsewhere. Come," and pointing to the door, he would have driven the
priest and myself outside without more words.