As became his high station and lofty character, the bearing of
Conanchet betrayed none of the littleness of a vulgar curiosity. He met
his ancient acquaintance with the calm dignity of his rank, and it would
have been difficult for the most inquiring eye to have detected a
wandering glance, a single prying look, or any other sign that he deemed
the place at all extraordinary for such an interview. He listened to the
little explanation of the other, with grave courtesy, and suffered a short
time to elapse before he made any reply.
"The Manitou of the pale-men," he then said "should he pleased with my
father. His words are often in the ears of the Great Spirit! The trees and
the rocks know them."
"Like all of a sinful and fallen race," returned the stranger with the
severe air of the age, "I have much need of my askings. But why dost thou
think that my voice is so often heard in this secret place?"
The finger of Conanchet pointed to the worn rock at his feet, and his eye
glanced furtively at the beaten path which led between the spot and the
door of the lodge.
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