Some twenty or thirty war-worn veterans had already pushed their way through the crowd and stood grouped around him, ready at a word to let fly their tomahawks, and as many more were hurrying to him. The whole village could muster no more than one hundred braves, and of these fully one-half would stand by Windango. They were the older and more experienced men, and the other braves would be as chaff before them. The dark throng broke, and scattered into a hundred fragments. CHAPTER XVII THE DEATH OF DENORTIER A light hand shook me by the shoulder. I moved uneasily, and rubbing my eyes looked about the hut; all was inky darkness. "Hist!" said a voice, which I recognized as Windango's, "let the Eagle follow silently behind me." And taking my hand in his, he led me quietly across the hut and into the night air. As I looked down at the sleeping warrior in the doorway, I saw something red trickling slowly down his broad breast. Bending over him, I looked. A great gash was over the heart, and from it was streaming a torrent of blood. The old chief had taken this means of silencing him effectually, and so straightening myself, I stepped to his side, where he stood in the shadow of the lodge. With a quick movement, he threw a deerskin over my head, so that nothing could be seen of my face. The night was dark and moonless, and from the deserted streets of the village no sound arose. He turned, and with me at his heels began a quick journey towards the woods. We met no one, as with bent heads we silently stole towards the shadow of the trees. The cabin in which I had been confined that night lay at the northern end of the village, and it was only a few moments until we reached the outskirts of the place. I started back in alarm, for before us there trod to and fro upon his beat a sentry. We could not pass him without being seen; but the chief by my side reassured me in a word. "It is a friend," he whispered. "Once I saved his life from the Tuscaroras, and he has not forgotten; the Eagle need not fear." And with head still bent, he stole silently by the motionless figure, who, with his back turned toward us, stood gazing intently into the night. He must have heard us as we passed, but if so he made no sign as we trod softly by, and in a few moments we had reached the friendly shadow of the trees. Never for an instant did Windango relax his swinging trot, as he hurried through the forest. Twice I tripped upon some root or branch, and came to the ground; but I was up in an instant, and after his dark shadow, which I could partly discern before me. Through bushes and vines we tore, the briars scratching my hands and face; into trees I bumped, and stumbled into gulleys, as I hurried on after the chief.