"Take the straightest, stoutest one there. Aye, that'll do."

Elizabeth wondered what good a single pine needle might be when she was lost in the bush, given the fact that there were millions upon millions of them around her, but she thought it best to bide her time.

"Now," said Robbie. "Wha' we need is a bit o' silk."

"Oh," said Elizabeth. "I have a silk ribbon, but it's back with my things." The thought of the ribbon she had worn in her hair for her wedding made her stop suddenly.

"Nathaniel's on yer mind," said Robbie. "It stands writ on yer face. Well, lass, if it's any comfort at a', there's nae man whose word I trust more, unless it's his fait her He cleared his throat. "And if ye'll permit me an observation, he's done wed for his el has Nathaniel. He deserves a guid woman, and I'm glad tae see him wi' one.

"Do you think he was lonely?" asked Elizabeth, and was surprised at herself to have spoken this question out loud.

But Robbie did not seem surprised. "His good fortune is, he need be lonely nae longer."

Elizabeth looked down at the pine needle lying on her palm. "Did you know Sarah?" she asked, and felt her throat swell with this, with the saying of the name which preoccupied her to such a degree.

"I did." Robbie hesitated, and then began to rumble about in the pouch on his belt. At length he pulled out a handful of bullet patches, which he stirred with his thumb.

"Silk patches are the best thing when your target's far off an' less than willin' tae stan quiet," he explained. But he looked up from his palm at Elizabeth thoughtfully.

"Sarah was a comely lass," he said softly. "But she was no' the richt wife for Nathaniel."

The pale yellow silk looked very out of place between his two thick fingers.

"It's ten year or more since I put this bit of silk by, thinkin' someday I might have need o' some careful shootin'. So, my dear, listen noo, and closely. Stroke the needle gently with the silk—that's right. We want it tae bristle. Let me see yer face. Wha' e'es ye've got, lass, the color of the sky when the gloamin's fadin' fast. Noo, rub your finger on yer forehead, there, where there's a sheen. Wha' ye must do, and gently, mind, is tae stroke the oil fra' yer finger onto the needle. Can ye manage? Lovely."

They stood with their heads bent over Elizabeth's palm.

"The Kahnyen’keháka women are an unco' strong race," said Robbie. "Stronger than will suit most men."

Elizabeth frowned. "Nathaniel certainly knew enough about the Kahnyen’keháka. That couldn't have been a surprise to him. And he doesn't seem to be afraid of strong women."

She realized how defensive she had sounded, but Robbie's smile was understanding.

"Aye," he said. "His mither was a strong woman, and he found one agin in ye. But there's nae denyin' it, the Kahnyen’keháka women take things in their own hands the way ye wadnae think tae do."

Elizabeth thought of Richard's claims, and she stilled suddenly.

"It runs contrary tae everythin' ye've been told aboot richt and wrong," said Robbie. "But I've no' a question that ye'd find satisfaction withe Mohawk way yersel', if ye had tae live it."

"I doubt that," Elizabeth muttered.

"Oh, but think," said Robbie easily. "Neera man tae run yer life. The long house ye live in belongs tae your mither, and one day may be your own tae do wi' as ye see fit. The hairns are yours, and the getting' o' them—" He paused and flushed.

"As a marrit woman, perhaps ye'll permit me tae say more than I should. The getting' o' bairns is a woman's business, ye see, among the Kahnyen’keháka. She may take a man and he may suit her wed, but if he doesna, then she can turn tae another and nae one will say her nay. Includin' her own man."

Elizabeth looked up at him, shocked.

"A man would not tolerate such behavior," she said.

"But ye're wrong there, lassie. A Kahnyen’keháka wad thole it, an' ye'll look far and wide i' the world for a better race o' men, braw and bonnie. Noo mind, I'm no' sayin' that he wa dna dislike it. Kahnyen’keháka are prideful people. But it is their way, or it was, before they scattered and left their homelands.

He turned his attention to the pine needle. Plucking a single white hair from his head, he made a loop of it between thumb and forefinger. This he offered to Elizabeth, and she took it.

"Slip it under the wee needle so ye can lift it, and wha ye must do, lass, is tae let the needle float on the top o' the dub in yon dail stump at your knee. The water, ye ken, poohn' there. Mind noo, if it goes under we mun start afresh."

Robbie glanced at her, for she was staring at him.

"Go on, then, see if ye can make it float."

Reluctantly, Elizabeth turned to this task. Trying to gather her concentration, she did as she was directed. When the needle landed gently on the water, she slipped the hair away. From his pocket, Robbie took his own compass and compared it to the pine needle, which turned slowly and then stopped.

"So," he said, quite visibly pleased. "Ye've made a compass."

"Yes," she said quietly.

He cleared his throat. "I see I've told ye sum thing ye didna know about the Kahnyen’keháka, and it doesna meet wi' your approval."