XVIII
THE MISTRESS OF THE FALSE FACESWith Bolling in active supervision and Tom hanging greedily on the flanks of the crowd, we were hustled through the clearing, past the chapel and an intervening belt of woodland, into a second and much larger open space, crammed with bark lodges and huts.
"A big village," I gasped to Ta-wan-ne-ars as I dodged a blow at my head.
"'Tis the haunt of the Keepers," he replied. "See, there are Adirondacks and Shawendadies, as well as Cahnuagas. And those yonder are Hurons from north of the Lakes."
Bolling slashed him across the face with a strip of raw-hide.
"Keep your breath for the torture-stake, you Iroquois cur!"
Ta-wan-ne-ars laughed at him.
"Red Jack can only fight with a whip," he said. "But when Ta-wan-ne-ars holds a tomahawk he runs."
Bollin
