made my heart swell
to see the lad, as he faced those dancing devils and looked coolly into
the eyes of death. His face was indeed ghastly white in the fire-glow,
save where the red stains of blood disfigured it; but there was no
wavering in the bold black eyes, no cowardly shrinking from his fate,
no moan of weakness from between his tightly pressed lips. Scarce
could I think of him then as being the same gentle exquisite that rode
on the westward trail in powdered hair and gaudy waistcoat, worrying
lest a pinch of dust might soil his faultless linen,--this begrimed,
blood-stained, torn figure, naked to the waist, his small-clothes
clinging in rags from his thighs, his head bare and with long black
locks streaming to his shoulders. Yet it was now, not then, he won my
respect and honor.

Once I saw him strain desperately at the cords in a mad endeavor to
break free, his flashing eyes on the demons who were torturing him
beyond endurance. Well I knew how he longed to lay hand on any weapon,
and thus die, battling to the end; had he succeeded, I doubt not I
should have been at his side, forgetful of all else in the struggle.
The deer-skin thongs, as unyielding as iron, held him fast. I ground
my teeth and dug my nails into the earth to hold me from leaping
forward in hopeless attempt at rescue, as a huge brute struck him
savagely with clinched hand across the lips.

Suddenly, as if in response to some low spoken order, the jostling
horde fell aside from before him, leaving a narrow space unoccupied. I
had no time to wonder at this movement before a tomahawk, whirling
rapidly and flashing like a ruby in the red glare, went hurling
forward, and buried its shining blade deep in the post an inch from the
prisoner's head, the handle quivering with the force of impact. Again
and again, amid yells of derision and encouragement, they threw, twice
bringing token of blood from the grazed cheek and once cleaving the ear
nearest me as if by a knife-blow. In spite of all, De Croix sneered at
them, mocked their efforts, taunted them with their lack of skill, no
doubt seeking to infuriate them and cause the striking of a merciful
death-blow.

I trembled as I gazed, held there by a fascination I could not
overcome, shading my eyes when I saw an arm uplifted to make a cast,
and opening them in dread unspeakable as I heard the dull impact of the
blow. Never in my life have I seen such marvellous nerve as this
French gallant d