Almost I think you worthy to be an Onondaga." "I know you can pay me what is to you no higher compliment, but I have a notion the end of the concert is not far away.

It seems to me the volume of song from the group on the left is diminishing." "And you notice no decrease on our right ?" "No, Tayoga.

The grand chorus there is as strong as ever, and unless my ears go wrong, I detect in it a triumphant note." "Then the test of song which you have created is finished, and the prize has been won by the group on the right.

It is a fine conceit that you have about the birds, Dagaeoga.

I like it, and we will see it to the end." The song on their left died, the one on their right swelled anew, and then died in its turn.