I made my slow way around the bound figures. Some
were pegged to the ground by their out-stretched hands and feet, and
some were stretched on crosses. But all were Indians. I saw more
Miamis, a few Kickapoos, and some whom I did not know; I learned later
that they were Mascoutens. And then I saw Labarthe. He was tied to a
tree, Leclerc beside him. Leclerc, who was ever a fool, would have
motioned to me, but Labarthe struck down his arm and gave a blank
stare. So I was able to get near them. They looked blood-stained and
jaded, but practically unhurt, and I saw a half-eaten chunk of meat in
Leclerc's hand. They had been fed and reasonably well treated. But
that meant nothing as guide to what might come.
I had not made my way alone. Starling was the chief attraction, but I,
too, was the centre of a curious, chaffering crowd. The braves were
unwontedly good-humored, childishly pleased with the evening's
excitement, and I amused them still further by shrugging at them and
making great faces of contempt. When one offered me a meal cake I
kicked at him and trampled the food into the ground, and as I swaggered
away I heard him tell the others that I was a bear for courage. I
could have smiled at that, for I was acting more like a blustering
terrier than any nobler animal, but I would not let them see that I
understood their tongue.
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