We must get Auguste. Kuntaw wants him to live in the Penobscot house.” The old man got up, trembling when he heard he was to come with them. He looked around. The idlers stood near the post doorway, a dog scratched its fleas. He sat down again, smiling slyly. “No. Too late. You go. I stay.” No matter what they said he refused. “Someone must stay. I will be the One Who Remains.” He was always good at naming.
