His hand flew to where his knife had been, and his teeth
showed like a jackal's. A figure that had lain, blanket-shrouded in
the shadow, had risen and come forward. It was Pemaou. He had pleased
his humor by being an unseen auditor and letting us play out our
various forms of resistance and despair for his delight. Now he would
make a dramatic entry. He was dressed for the part in a loin cloth, a
high laced hat of scarlet, and the boots of a captain of dragoons. He
stopped before Starling and grinned silently. Then he held his hat,
French fashion, and made a derisive bow. The Englishman forgot his
dignity and cursed. I wished that I had been near enough to hold up a
warning hand.
I knew my turn was next, so was prepared. Pemaou sought me, and stood
before me, but I would not see him; I looked through him as through
glass. He spoke to me in French, but I was deaf. I heard the Senecas
grunt with amusement.
Pemaou heard it too, and his war plume quivered. He gave an order in
Huron, and one of his men came behind me and unbound my hands. I could
have jeered at the childishness of his open purpose. He hoped that,
with my hands free, I would spring at him, impotent and vengeful as a
caged rattlesnake, and that then he could turn me over to the sport and
torture of the mob.
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