attack the fort and kill the French. The great medicine-man, the
white hunter, who lived under the earth, would supply them with
muskets----"

"He says the white hunter who lives under the earth is giving them
muskets to make war," whispered Godefroy. "That must be the pirate."

"Listen!"

"Let the braves prepare to meet the Indians of the Land of Little White
Sticks, who were coming with furs for the white men--" Le Borgne went
on.

"Let the braves send their runners over the hills to the Little White
Sticks sleeping in the sheltered valley. Let the braves creep through
the mist of the morning like the lynx seeking the ermine. And when the
Little White Sticks were all asleep, the runners would shoot fire
arrows into the air and the braves would slay--slay--slay the men, who
might fight, the women, who might run to the whites for aid, and the
children, who might live to tell tales."

"The devils!" says Godefroy under his breath.

A log broke on the coals with a flare that painted Le Borgne's evil
face fiery red; and the fellow gabbled on, with figure crouching
stealthily forward, foxy eye alight with evil, and teeth glistening.

"Let the braves seize the furs of the Little White Sticks, trade the
furs to the white-man for muskets, massacre the English, then when the
great white chief's big canoes left, kill the Frenchmen of the fort."

"Ha," says Godefroy. "Jack's safe outside! We'll have a care to serve
you through the loop-holes, and trade you only broken muskets!"

A guttural grunt applauded Le Borgne's advice, and the crafty scoundrel
continued: "The great medicine-man, the white hunter, who lived under
the earth, was their friend. Was he not here among them? Let the
braves hear what he advised."

The Indians grunted their approbation. Some one stirred the fire to
flame. There was a shuffling movement among the figures in the dark.
Involuntarily Godefroy and I had risen to our feet. Emerging from the
dusk to the firelight was a white man, gaudily clothed in tunic of
scarlet with steel breastplates and gold lace enough for an ambassador.
His face was hidden by Le Borgne's form. Godefroy pushed too far
forward; for the next thing, a shout of rage rent the tent roof. Le
Borgne was stamping out the fire. A red form with averted face raced
round the lodge wall to gain the door. Then Godefroy and I were
standing weapons in hand, with the band of infuriated braves
brandishing tomahawks about our