They, like the bow and quiver, were fine specimens of workmanship and would have compared favorably with those used by the great English archers of the Middle Ages.
Tayoga examined the sharp tips of the arrows, and, poising the quiver over his left shoulder, fastened it on his back, securing the lower end at his waist with the sinews of the deer, and the upper with the same kind of cord, which he carried around the neck and then under his left arm.

The ends of the arrows were thus convenient to his right hand, and with one sweeping circular motion he could draw them from the quiver and fit them to the bowstring.
The Iroquois had long since learned the use of the rifle and musket, but on occasion they still relied upon the bow, with which they had won their kingdom, the finest expanse of mountain and forest, lake and river, ever ruled over by man.

Tayoga, as he strung his bow and hung his quiver, felt a great emotion, the spirit of his ancestors he would have called it, descending upon him.

_Waano_ and he fitted together and for the time he cherished it more than his rifle, the weapon that the white man had brought from another world.

The feel of the wood in his hand made him see visions of a vast green wilderness in which the Indian alone roamed and knew no equal.
"What are you dreaming about, Tayoga ?" asked Robert, who also dreamed dreams.
The Onondaga shook himself and laughed a little.
"Of nothing," he replied.