"It was Tandakora," he said, "seeking revenge. But since the arrow has
sped wrong he will not loose another shaft tonight. If it had not been
for his wounded shoulder the arrow might have gone true. It was a
treacherous deed, worthy of the savage Ojibway."
"I hope the time will come," said Willet, "when I shall send a bullet
not through Tandakora's shoulder, but through his heart. I don't love
the shedding of blood, but the forest will be a better forest without
him. Meanwhile, say nothing, lads. Monsieur Jolivet is coming back, but
don't mention the arrow to him. He may find the head of it later on in
the wall, and then he can wonder about it as much as he pleases."
Mine host bustled back. The foul and treacherous attempt, the breaking
off of the arrow, and the comment upon it had taken less than a minute,
and, good observer though he was, he noticed nothing unusual in the
appearance of his guests. They carried their rifles in their hands, but
many visitors to Montreal did the same, and as they were beautiful
weapons they might well guard against their loss.
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