So long as daylight lasted we moved with some regularity in spite of
the rough ground. Then, knowing we were drawing nearer the Senecas, we
began to slip from tree to tree. The Indians did this like phantoms,
and the French troops imitated. Three hundred men went through the
forest, and sometimes a twig cracked. There was no other sound. We
went for some time. We heard owls hoot around us, and knew they might
be watch cries. Still we went on. We went till I felt the ground rise
steadily under my groping feet. The Seneca stronghold was on an
eminence. I gave the signal to drop where we were and wait for day.
We melted into the shadows, and lay rigid while the stars looked down.
The savage next me slept. His war club lay by his side and I felt of
it in the dark. It was made of a deer's horn, shaped like a cutlass;
it had a large ball at the end. The ball was heavy and jagged, and
would crush a skull.
There were hundreds of such clubs. In a few hours they would be in
use. And the woman was in camp.
My right arm was free from the sling and I dug my hands together. I
could feel the blood running in my palms, and I checked myself. If I
injured my hands how could I save the woman?
But nothing could save the woman.
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