They were not Mohawk, not Cayuga, nor Onondaga.

Nor did they seem to me like Seneca, being not oiled and braided clean, but tagged at the root with the claws of a tree-lynx.

They were not Oneida, not Lenape.

Therefore, they must be Seneca scalps.

Which meant that Walter Butler and that spawn of satan, Sayanquarata, were now prowling around our outer pickets.