"Here you are, with the house built and the fire burning on the hearth!" "I lighted the fire," said Tayoga, rising, "but Manitou made the hearth, and built the house which is worthy of Him." He looked with admiration at the magnificent trees spreading away on every side, and the foliage in its most splendid, new luxuriant green.
"It is worthy, Tayoga," said Robert, whose soul was like that of the Onondaga, "and it takes Manitou himself a century or more to grow trees like these." "Some of them, I dare say, are three or four hundred years old or more," said Willet, "and the forest goes west, so I've heard the Indians say, a matter of near two thousand miles.

It's pleasant to know that if all the axes in the world were at work it couldn't all be cut down in our time or in the time of our children." Tayoga's heart swelled with indignation at the idea that the forest might be destroyed, but he said nothing, as he knew that Willet and Robert shared his feeling.
"Here's your rifle, Tayoga," said the hunter; "I suppose you didn't have an occasion to use your bow and arrows." "No, Great Bear," replied the Onondaga, "but I might have had the chance had I come earlier." "What do you mean by that ?" "I saw on the grass a human trace.

It was made by a foot clothed in a moccasin, a large foot, a very large foot, the foot of a man whom we all have cause to hate." "I take it you're speaking of Tandakora, the Ojibway." "None other.

I cannot be mistaken.

But the trail was cold.