Oneidas at headquarters, and Coureurs-de-Bois to spare who understand their business?”

“I make nothing of him,” murmured the Mohican, his eyes fairly glittering with excitement and perplexity.

“Is he, perhaps, some fugitive from Butler’s rangers?” I whispered, utterly at a loss to account for such a silly spectacle. “The pitiful idiot! Did you ever gaze upon the like, Mayaro — unless he be some French mission priest. Otherwise, yonder walks the greatest of God’s fools!”

“Then he is easily taken,” muttered Mayaro. “Fix thy flint, Loskiel, and prime. Here is a business I do not understand.”

Once the man halted and looked up at our ledge