A low, murmuring sound stole out of the darkness, pleasantly filling our ears as we advanced. A moment later, the Mohican halted; and we caught a faint gleam in the darkness.

“Sisquehanne,” he said.

If, was the Susquehanna. Tired as I was I could not forbear a smile when this Mohican saluted the noble river by its Algonquin name in the presence of those haughty Iroquois who owned it. And it seemed to me as though I could hear the feathered crests stiffen on the two Oneida heads; for this was Oneida country, and they had been maliciously reminded that the Lenape had once named for them their river under circumstances in which no Iroquois took any pride. Little evidences of the subtle but ever-living friction between my Mohican and the two Oneidas were plenty, but never more