"Twice before."

"Then you know the nature of the ground. 'Tis all woodland until within a few hundred yards of the gates. You recall the great rock beside the trail?"

"Ay, and the view from the top."

"My plan would be to creep up that far, with flanking parties on the slopes below. In front, as you may remember, there is an open space, then a fringe of forest hiding the clearing before the stockade. The Iroquois will be gathered behind that fringe of trees waiting daylight. Is my thought right?"

"'Tis the most likely spot."

"Then listen; I have thought this all out. You and I, with Sequitah, will take a hundred of your Indians, cross the small river, and advance up the trail. That leaves fifty warriors to creep through the woods on either slope, twenty-five to a side, led by your two _couriers de bois_. We will wait at the great rock, and give the signal."

La Forest stood silent a moment, thinking; then rested his hand on De Artigny's shoulder.

"It looks feasible enough, but the flanking parties may not reach their positions in time."

"The one from the west will not have as far to travel as we do. The other does not make so much difference, for if the Iroquois break they will come in this direction--the other side of the trail is sheer rock."

"True; and what about the lady?"

"I shall go with you, Messieurs," I said quietly. "There will be no more danger there than here; besides you would not leave me alone without a guard, and you will need every fighting man."

I felt the grip of Rene's hand but it was La Forest's voice that spoke.

"The right ring to that, hey, De Artigny! Madame answers my last argument. But first, let us have word with the chief."

He addressed a word into the crowd of indistinguishable figures, and an Indian came forward. Dim as the light was I was impressed with the dignity of his carriage, the firm character of his facial outline.

"I am Sequitah, Chief of the Mascoutins," he said gravely, "for whom the white chief sent."

De Artigny stepped forth, standing as erect as the other.

"Sequitah is great chief," he said quietly, "a warrior of many battles, the friend of La Salle. We have smoked the peace-pipe together, and walked side by side on the war-trail. Sequitah knows who speaks?"

"The French warrior they call De Artigny."

"Right; 'tis not the first time you and I have met the Iroquois! The wolves are here again; they have burned the villages of the Illini, and killed your women and children. The valley is black with smoke, and red with blood. What says the war chief of the Mascoutins--will his warriors fight? Will they strike with us a blow against the beasts?"

The chief swept his hand in wide circle.

"We are warriors; we have tasted blood. What are the white man's words of wisdom?"

Briefly, in quick, ringing sentences, De Artigny outlined his plan.

Sequitah listened motionless, his face unexpressive of emotion. Twice, confused by some French phrase, he asked grave questions, and once a _courier de bois_ spoke up in his own tongue, to make the meaning clear. As De Artigny ceased the chief stood for a moment silent.

"We leap upon them from cover?" he asked calmly, "and the white men will sally forth to aid us?"

"'Tis so we expect--M. de Tonty is never averse to a fight."

"I believe in the Iron Hand; but 'tis told me others command now. If they fail we are but few against many."

"They will not fail, Sequitah; they are Frenchmen."

The Indian folded his hands across his breast, his eyes on the two men facing him. There was silence, but for the slight rustle of moving bodies in the darkness.

"Sequitah hears the voice of his friend," he announced at last, "and his words sound wise. The warriors of the Illini will fight beside the white men."

There was no time lost although I know but little of what occurred, being left alone there while La Forest and De Artigny divided the men, and arranged the plans of advance. The dense night shrouded much of this hasty preparation, for all I could perceive were flitting figures, or the black shadow of warriors being grouped together. I could hear voices, never loud, giving swift orders, or calling to this or that individual through the gloom.

A party tramped by me, and disappeared, twenty or more naked warriors, headed by a black-bearded Frenchman, bearing a long rifle--the detachment, 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 the hand, aiding me to move quietly over the uneven ground, but made no effort to speak. Beside us, not unlike a shadow, strode the chief Sequitah, his stern face uplifted, shadowed by long black hair, a rifle gripped in his sinewy arms. We crossed the little river, De Artigny bearing me easily in his grasp, and, on the opposite shore, waited for the others to follow.

They came, a long line of dark, shadowy forms, wading cautiously through the shallow water, and ranged themselves just below the bank, many still standing in the stream. What light there was flickered over naked bodies, and revealed savage eyes gleaming from out masses of black hair.

De Artigny stepped forward on the exposed root of a tree to where he could see his dusky followers, and La Forest climbed the bank, and joined him. A moment the two men conferred, turning about to question Sequitah. As they separated I could distinguish De Artigny's final words.

"Very well, then, if it is your wish I take command. Sequitah, a hundred warriors will follow you along the trail--you know it well.