witchcraft.

The Baron drew himself up. He put out a protesting hand, and his
dignity of gesture would have shamed an Israelitish patriarch.

"We called our brother to council. What does our brother mean? He is
moon-mad when he talks of war in the house of his friends, the Hurons."

I yawned in his face. "You called me to council? But the council is
to-morrow night. The commandant calls it. Save your fair words for
him."

I turned on my heel to leave, but the Baron held me. He eyed me above
his blanket.

"My brother has been called the man who steals the Indian's heart from
his body," he purred at me. "He has stolen mine. The commandant is a
fool; I cannot talk to him. But to you, my brother, I can open my
heart. Come with me to my lodge and listen. You shall be safe. In
token of my love I give you this calumet," and he took his great
feathered pipe--the pipe that means honor to the lowest of savages--and
would have thrust it in my hands.

I was too nonplussed to remember to laugh. An offer to buy me, and
from the Indian who hated me most! They must indeed be afraid of
me,--and with what little cause. Where had my reputation come? I knew
my own weakness. Well, I must play on my fame while it lasted. So,
without deigning to answer, I turned away. My troops hedged me like a
wall as I went back to the French camp, but I did not speak to them.
It was strange to see them melt before me. I did not wonder that the
Hurons smelled witchcraft where, in fact, there was only bluster and a
pleading tongue.

I stood for a moment and looked at the garrison. The moon had crept
high and the place was very still. We were safe for the night. I lit
my pipe, and the smoke that spiraled above me did not seem more filmy
than the chance that had saved us. I suddenly shivered. But we were
safe. I gave the troops the signal to disband.

I stopped for a moment at Cadillac's door. "Sleep well," I said, with
my hand on his; "we have bridged to-night. Now for the council
tomorrow."

CHAPTER XXVII

IN COUNCIL

The next morning showed the face of War without her mask. The Indians
sat in open council, and the tom-toms sounded from lodge to lodge. In
the Huron camp there were council rings of the women; it was a tribal
crisis and was met by a frenzy of speech-making. As a rival interest
Singing Arrow's wedding made little stir.

I went to the wedding and saw Pierre the savage transformed into Pierre