"This I have never had interpreted.
Can you read it for me, Euan ?" And there in the lantern light I read it, while she looked down over my shoulder.
"KADON! "Aesa-yat-yen-enghdon, Lois! "Etho! [And here was painted a white dog lying dead, its tongue hanging out sideways.] "Hen-skerigh-watonte.
"Jatthon-ten-yonk, Lois! "Jin-isaya-dawen-ken-wed-e-wayen.
[Here was drawn in outline the foot and claws of a forest lynx.] "Niyi-eskah-haghs, na-yegh-nyasa-kenra-dake, niya-wennonh!" [Then a white symbol.] For a long time I gazed at the writing in shocked silence.

Then I asked her if she suspected what was written there in the Canienga dialect.
"I never have had it read.

Indians refuse, shake their heads, and look askance at me, and tell me nothing; interpreters laugh at me, saying there is no meaning in the lines.

Is there, Euan ?" "Yes," I said.
"You can interpret ?" "Yes." "Will you ?" I was silent, pondering the fearful meaning which had been rendered plainer and more hideous by the painted symbols.
"It has to do with the magic of the Seneca priesthood," I muttered.
"Here is a foul screed--and yet a message, too, to you." Then, with an effort I found courage to read, as it was written: "I speak! Thou, Lois, mightest have been destroyed! Thus! (Here the white dog.) But I will frustrate their purpose.

Keep listening to me, Lois.