but in one
wigwam. This was an enormous structure, built on poles long as a mast,
with moose-hides scattered so thickly upon it that not a glint of
firelight came through except the red glow of smoke at the peak. There
was a low hum of suppressed voices, then one voice alone in solemn
tones, then guttural grunts of applause.

"In council," whispered Godefroy, steering straight for the bearskin
that hung flapping across the entrance.

Bidding Jack Battle stand guard outside, we followed the Indians who
had led us from the fort. Lifting the tent-flap, we found ourselves
inside. A withered creature with snaky, tangled hair, toothless gums,
eyes that burned like embers, and a haunched, shrivelled figure, stood
gesticulating and crooning over a low monotone in the centre of the
lodge.

As we entered, the draught from the door sent a tongue of flame darting
to mid-air from the central fire, and scores of tawny faces with glance
intent on the speaker were etched against the dark. These were no camp
families, but braves, deep in war council. The elder men sat with
crossed feet to the fore of the circle. The young braves were behind,
kneeling, standing, and stretched full length. All were smoking their
long-stemmed pipes and listening to the medicine-man, or seer, who was
crooning his low-toned chant. The air was black with smoke.

Always audacious, Godefroy, the trader, advanced boldly and sat down in
the circle. I kept back in shadow, for directly behind the Indian
wizard was a figure lying face downward, chin resting in hand, which
somehow reminded me of Le Borgne. The fellow rolled lazily over, got
to his knees, and stood up. Pushing the wizard aside, this Indian
faced the audience. It was Le Borgne, his foxy eye yellow as flame,
teeth snapping, and a tongue running at such a pace that we could
scarce make out a word of his jargon.

"What does he say, Godefroy?"

"Sit down," whispered the trader, "you are safe."

This was what the Indian was saying as Godefroy muttered it over to me:

"Were the Indians fools and dogs to throw away two fish for the sake of
one? The French were friends of the Indians. Let the Indians find out
what the French would give them for killing the English. He, Le
Borgne, the one-eyed, was brave. He would go to the Frenchman's fort
and spy out how strong they were. If the French gave them muskets for
killing the English, after the ships left in the spring the Indians
could