e we've
always had on the Noda when a fight had to be!"

Unreconciled, all her woman's nature protesting, she had come to a
settled realization that the fight must happen; Vittum was putting it in
words. Now that the struggle was imminent--on the eve of it--she wanted
to go down on her knees and beg them to give up the project; but she
did not dare to weaken their determination or wound their pride. She
crouched on her cot of spruce boughs in anguished misery.

"Nobody has got to the point of using hatchets and guns on this river,"
corroborated a man on the other side of the fire from Vittum.

Other men pitched their voices higher then, giving up the cautious
monotone of the preceding conference.

"Is any man afeard?" asked Vittum.

They assured him with confidence and gay courage that no man was afraid.

"I didn't hear any of you Injuns pipe up," said Vittum. "You ain't very
strong on talk, anyway. But I'd kind of like to know how you feel in
this matter. We all understood--all of us regulars--that we was coming
up here to fight when it got to that point. You have grabbed in later
and perhaps didn't understand it. We ain't asking you to do anything you
don't want to do."

The Indians were silent. Even Felix Lapierre said nothing when Vittum
questioned him with a glance. The French Canadian turned to Frank Orono,
squatting within arm's reach, and patted him on the shoulder. It became
plain that there was an understanding which did not require words.

Orono rose slowly; he grinned. From the breast of his leather jacket he
brought forth a cow's horn and shook it over his head, and its contents
rattled sharply. The other Indians leaped up. They were grinning, too.

Orono began a slow march around the camp fire, lifting his knees high,
stepping slowly, beating the rattling horn into the palm of his hand.
Behind him in single file, imitating his step, marched the other
Indians. The smiles faded out of their countenances; their jaws were
set, and deep in their throats they growled a weird singsong.

"My Gawd!" yelped Vittum. "It's the old Tarratine war dance and it just
fits my notions right now, and I'm in on it!"

He scrambled to his feet and fell into line at the rear of the Indians.
Every man in the Flagg crew followed suit. They imitated the Indian
singsong as best they were able, their voices constantly giving forth
greater volume until they were yelling their defiance to the Three C's
company and all its wo