He was here in the very shrine and fortress of the ancient enemies of the great Iroquois.

He had taken the education of the white man, he had read in his books and he knew much of the story of the human race, but nothing had ever disturbed his faith that a coming chief of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the mighty League of the Hodenosaunee was, by right, and in fact, a prince among men.
But while Tayoga learned what civilization, as the European races called it, had to offer, it did not make him value any the less the arts and lore of his own forest.

Rather, they increased in size and importance by comparison.

He had seen how the talk of de Courcelles had lighted a fire in the soul of Lennox, he had seen how even Willett, the wary, had been stirred, but he, Tayoga, had been left cold.

He had read the purpose behind it all, and never for an instant did he let himself put any faith in de Courcelles or Jumonville.
The air of the room was heavy and fetid to Tayoga.