at me and
dying.

I called out like a mad thing, and insanity gave me power. I tore the
red hatchet from Pemaou's hands and pinioned him. My fingers dug into
his throat, and I threw him to the ground. He bared his wolf's teeth
and began his death song. But I raved at him, and choked him to
silence. "You are not to die now!" I shouted at his glazing eyes.
"You shall live. I shall torture you. You shall live to be tortured."

I carried rope around my waist, and I took it and bound him. How I did
it is not clear, for I had a weak shoulder and he was muscular. But
now he seemed palsied and I a giant. It was done. I bound him till he
was rigid and helpless.

And then I fell to my knees beside Pierre. He was dead. I had lost
even the parting from him. My giant was dead. He had taken the blow
meant for me.

Pierre was dead, and Simon and Labarthe and Leclerc. I had brought
them to the wilderness because I believed in a western empire for
France. I left Pierre and went on.

But I had not gone far when a cry rose behind me. It was louder than
the calls of the dying. It was the wail of an Indian woman for her
dead. I ran back. Singing Arrow lay stretched on Pierre's body.

I looked at her. I did not ask myself how she came there, though I had
thought her safe in the Malhominis village. So she had loved the man
enough to follow secretly. I left her with him and went on.

I stepped over men who were mangled and scalped. Some of them were not
dead, and they clutched at me. But I went on my way.

Indians and troops were gathered at the north of the camp. The warfare
was over. Corpses were stacked like logs, and the savages were binding
their captives and chanting of their victories. The French stood
together, leaning on their muskets. I saw Cadillac unhurt, and went to
him.

"Is the bugler alive? Have him sound the call."

The commandant turned at sound of my voice. He was elated and would
have embraced me, but seeing my face his mood altered. He gave the
order.

The bugle restored quiet, and I raised my sword for attention. I asked
each tribe in turn if they had seen a white woman. Then I asked the
French. I gained only a storm of negatives.

I went on with the orders to the tribes. All captives were to be
treated kindly and their wounds dressed. This was because they were to
be adopted, and it was prudent to keep them in good condition. The
argument might restrain the savages.