ot seen them. I suppose they are wandering within call."

"Then, quickly, before we are seen, help me with this log."

"I do not understand, M'sieu."

"Into the hut with it, and the others, there. If a chance does
come,--well, it may be that we shall yet be reduced to holding the
hut. These will serve to barricade the door."

They were not disturbed while they rolled the short logs within and
piled them at one side of the door, where they could not be seen from
the path.

"Quietly, Father," whispered the Captain. He knew that the maid lay
sleeping, back among the shadows. "And the presents,--you have packed
them away?"

"In my bundle, M'sieu. They will not be harmed."

They returned to the open air, and looked about anxiously for signs of
a movement toward the hut; but the irregular street was silent. Here
and there, from the opening in the roof of some low building of bark
and logs, rose a light smoke.

"They are all at the dance," said Menard. His memory supplied the
picture: the great fire, now sunk to heaps of gray ashes, spread over
the ground by the feet of those younger braves who had wished to show
their hardihood by treading barefoot on the embers; the circle of
grunting figures, leaning forward, hatchet and musket in hand, moving
slowly around the fire with a shuffling, hopping step; the outer
circle of sitting or lying figures, men, women, and children, drunken,
wanton, quarrelsome, dreaming of the blood that should be let before
the sun had gone; and at one side the little group of old men, beating
their drums of wood and skin with a rhythm that never slackened.

The song grew louder, and broke at short intervals into shouts and
cries, punctuated with musket-shots.

"They are coming, M'sieu."

The head of the line, still stepping in the slow movement of the
dance, appeared at some distance up the path. The Long Arrow was in
front, in full war-paint, and wearing the collar of wampum beads.
Beside him was the Beaver. The line advanced, two and two, steadily
toward the lodge of the white men.

Menard leaned against the door-post and watched them. His figure was
relaxed, his face composed.

"Here are the doctors, Father."

A group of medicine men, wildly clad in skins of beasts and reptiles,
with the heads of animals on their shoulders, came running along
beside the line, leaping high in the air, and howling.

Menard turned to the priest. "Father, which shall it be,--shall we
fight?"

"I do