t the cloth from my
shoulder. I saw the Seneca who threw the hatchet, but I would not
stop. Corpses were in my way. Twice I slipped in blood and went to my
knees.

I must search each lodge, each group. I had seen nothing that looked
like a woman.

An Indian grappled with me, and I slashed at him till he was helpless.
I was covered with blood that was not my own. I let him drop and
stumbled on.

I could not find the woman. I had not seen Starling nor Pierre nor
Labarthe nor Leclerc.

And over all the noise of tearing flesh and the screams of dying men
came the sound of singing, of constant, exultant singing,--the singing
of victors binding their captives; the death songs of wounded preparing
to die.

I saw two bodies lying together as if the same arrow had cleft them.
Their hands sprawled toward me, red and beckoning. They were
mutilated, but I knew their clothes. They were Leclerc and Labarthe.
Leclerc was hanging on Labarthe as he had leaned in life.

I had brought these men to the wilderness. And Simon was dead, too. I
went on.

I saw a Seneca, stripped and running blood, crouch to a white man on
the ground and lift his knife to take the scalp. I sprang upon him,
but he dashed my knife away, found his feet, and pressed at me. I
dodged his hatchet, and catching up a skin shield from the ground
turned on him. I was taller than he, and I smashed the shield down on
his head so that he dropped. I pounded him till he was beyond doing
harm to any one, then I took his knife and hatchet, tossed him aside,
and turned to the white man.

It was Starling, and there was life in him, for he opened his eyes.

I took my flask and forced brandy between his teeth. He recognized me
but could not speak. A great spear had torn through his chest. I
started to pull it out, but when I looked farther and saw what a
hatchet had done I checked myself.

His eyes were on mine and he tried to speak. It was more than I could
look at,--his effort to hold life in his torn body and tell me
something. I eased his head and gave him more brandy.

And then he found strength to try to push me away. "Go! Go! The
woman!" I made the words out of the writhing of his lips.

I leaned over him. "Where? Where is she? Where?"

He tried many times before he made a sound that I could catch, and his
strength ebbed. I tried more brandy, but he was past reviving. I
strained to hear, till my agony matched his. I thought I caug