"
I yawned in his face. "You called me to council? But the council is
to-morrow night. The commandant calls it. Save your fair words for
him."
I turned on my heel to leave, but the Baron held me. He eyed me above
his blanket.
"My brother has been called the man who steals the Indian's heart from
his body," he purred at me. "He has stolen mine. The commandant is a
fool; I cannot talk to him. But to you, my brother, I can open my
heart. Come with me to my lodge and listen. You shall be safe. In
token of my love I give you this calumet," and he took his great
feathered pipe--the pipe that means honor to the lowest of savages--and
would have thrust it in my hands.
I was too nonplussed to remember to laugh. An offer to buy me, and
from the Indian who hated me most! They must indeed be afraid of
me,--and with what little cause. Where had my reputation come? I knew
my own weakness. Well, I must play on my fame while it lasted. So,
without deigning to answer, I turned away. My troops hedged me like a
wall as I went back to the French camp, but I did not speak to them.
It was strange to see them melt before me. I did not wonder that the
Hurons smelled witchcraft where, in fact, there was only bluster and a
pleading tongue.
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