Mayaro's ears are open." Boyd, with a triumphant glance at me, said eagerly: "Is not this hour the hour for the great Siwanois clan of the Lenni-Lenape to bid defiance to the Iroquois?
Is it not time that the Mohawks listen to the reading of those ancient belts, and count their dishonoured dead with brookside pebbles from the headwaters of the Sacandaga to the Delaware Capes ?" "Can squirrels count ?" retorted Mayaro disdainfully.

"Does my white brother understand what the blue-jays say one to another in the yellowing October woods?
Not in the Kanonsis, nor yet in the Kanonsionni may the Mohicans read to the Mohawks the ancient wampum records.

The Lenni-Lenape are Algonquin, not Huron-Iroquois.

Let those degraded Delawares who still sit in the Long House count their white belts while, from both doors of the Confederacy, Seneca and Mohawk belt-bearers hurl their red wampum to the four corners of the world." "The Mohicans, while they wait, may read of glory and great deeds," I said, "but the belts in their hands are not white.

How can this be, my brother ?" The Sagamore's eyes flashed: "The belts we remember are red!" he said.