much whispering was about; but the alert Algonquin promptly
quieted their fears by trumping up some hunting story. Wearied from
their day's hunt, the three Mohawks slept heavily round the camp-fire.
They had not the least suspicion of danger, for they had stacked their
arms carelessly against the trees of the forest. Terrified lest the
Algonquin should attempt to carry out his threat, Radisson pretended to
be asleep. Rising noiselessly, the Algonquin sat down by the fire.
The Mohawks slept on. The Algonquin gave Radisson a push. The French
boy looked up to see the Algonquin studying the postures of the
sleeping forms. The dying fire glimmered like a blotch of blood under
the trees. Stepping stealthy as a cat over the sleeping men, the
Indian took possession of their firearms. Drawn by a kind of horror,
Radisson had risen. The Algonquin thrust one of the tomahawks into the
French lad's hands and pointed without a word at the three sleeping
Mohawks. Then the Indian began the black work. The Mohawk nearest the
fire never knew that he had been struck, and died without a sound.
Radisson tried to imitate the relentless Algonquin, but, unnerved with
horror, he bungled the blow and lost hold of the hatchet just as it
struck the Mohawk's head. The Iroquois sprang up with a shout that
awakened the third man, but the Algonquin was ready. Radisson's blow
proved fatal. The victim reeled back dead, and the third man was
already despatched by the Algonquin.

Radisson was free. It was a black deed that freed him, but not half so
black as the deeds perpetrated in civilized wars for less cause; and
for that deed Radisson was to pay swift retribution.

Taking the scalps as trophies to attest his word, the Algonquin threw
the bodies into the river. He seized all the belongings of the dead
men but one gun and then launched out with Radisson on the river. The
French youth was conscience-stricken. "I was sorry to have been in
such an encounter," he writes, "but it was too late to repent." Under
cover of the night mist and shore foliage, they slipped away with the
current. At first dawn streak, while the mist still hid them, they
landed, carried their canoe to a sequestered spot in the dense forest,
and lay hidden under the upturned skiff all that day, tormented by
swarms of mosquitoes and flies, but not daring to move from
concealment. At nightfall, they again launched down-stream, keeping
always in the shadows of the s