Swift as a flash of light this figure reached the stake, the blazing fagots scattered right and left; a naked blade gleamed; the thongs fell from the prisoner's wrists; and the front ranks of the Hurons opened and closed on the freed man.

The deliverer turned to the gaping Indians, disclosing to their gaze the pale and beautiful face of Myeerah, the Wyandot Princes.
"Summon your chief," she commanded.
The tall form of the Seneca chief moved from among the warriors and with slow and measured tread approached the maiden.

His bearing fitted the leader of five nations of Indians.

It was of one who knew that he was the wisest of chiefs, the hero of a hundred battles.

Who dared beard him in his den?
Who dared defy the greatest power in all Indian tribes?
When he stood before the maiden he folded his arms and waited for her to speak.
"Myeerah claims the White Eagle," she said.
Cornplanter did not answer at once.