tachment, no doubt, dispatched to guard the slope east of the trail,
and hurried forth to cover the greater distance. Yet these could have
scarcely advanced far through that jungle when the others were also in
line, waiting the word.

The very silence in which all this was accomplished, the noiseless
bodies, the almost breathless attention, scarcely enabled me to
realize the true meaning of it all. These men were going into battle,
into a death grapple. They meant to attack five times their own
number. This was no boy's play; it was war, savage, relentless war.
The stern horror of it seemed to suddenly grip me as with icy fingers.
Here was what I had read of, dreamed of, being enacted before my very
eyes. I was even a part of it, for I was going with them to the field
of blood.

Yet how different everything was from those former pictures of
imagination. There was no noise, no excitement, no shrinking--just
those silent, motionless men standing in the positions assigned them,
the dim light gleaming on their naked bodies, their ready weapons. I
heard the voices of the white men, speaking quietly, giving last
instructions as they passed along the lines. Sequitah took his place,
not two yards from me, standing like a statue, his face stern and
emotionless.

It was like a dream, rather than a reality. I was conscious of no
thrill, no sense of fear. It was as though I viewed a picture in which
I had no personal interest. Out of the darkness came De Artigny,
pausing an instant before the chief.

"All is well, Sequitah?"

"Good--'tis as the white chief wishes."

"Then we move at once; La Forest will guide the rear; you and I will
march together. Give your warriors the word."

He turned and took my hand.

"You will walk with me, dear one; you are not afraid?"

"Not of the peril of coming battle," I answered. "I--I think I hardly
realize what that all means; but the risk you run. Rene! If--if you
win, you will be a prisoner condemned to death."

He laughed, and bent low, so I felt his lips brush my cheek.

"You do not understand, dear girl. A moment and I will explain--once
we are beyond the stream. Now I must see that all move together."

CHAPTER XXXIV

WE WAIT IN AMBUSH

We advanced through the woods down a slight incline, the Indians
moving like so many phantoms. Not a branch rattled as they glided
silently forward, not a leaf rustled beneath the soft tread of
moccasined feet. De Artigny led me by th