CHAPTER IV HE WHO DENIES THE INCREDIBLE DENIES GOD In the silence that followed spoke up Black Kettle, who was less restrained than the elder chief. “If the Star Woman knew that Metaminens came to seek her, then her heart would be glad. She would send her spirit to make him well. She would send her young men to meet him.” At this hint, Crawford woke up. Why not, indeed? He seized the opening and asserted himself, for that was Hal Crawford’s way. His orders were decisive, and were entirely unquestioned, for the Mohegans were accustomed to the guidance of a white man. “Good. Two of us must remain here to move camp and tend Sieur Perrot; that will be perilous enough. The other two must travel to the Star Woman and send back her young men to help, and this will be equally dangerous. Settle between yourselves which is to go. Frontin, you understand the affair? Clip two sticks and arrange it. Long stick goes, short stays here. There must be no delay.” Frontin comprehended perfectly. There was no question of abandoning the helpless Perrot, the Mohegans were invaluable allies, and a separation was inevitable. Either of them, with one of the Mohegans, could reach the Star Woman in half the time it would otherwise take them. Frontin whipped out his knife, clipped two twigs, and prepared them. He enclosed them in his hand with the ends showing even, and held them out. Crawford leaned forward and drew one. Frontin opened his hand and showed the other--and both were of equal length. At this, the two Mohegans laughed softly. “All right, old friend,” said Crawford. “I choose to stay.” Frontin leaped up. “Which of you goes with me, Loups?” “I go.” Le Talon rose. “My brother Black Kettle has hurt his foot. Come!” The two shook their powder-horns, examined firebags, divided meat and bullets. In five minutes they were ready. “Take care of the star, cap’n,” said Frontin. Then he added, in his assumed cynicism, “_Ora pro nobis!_” The next moment, with a wave of his hand, he vanished among the trees in the wake of Le Talon. The two were gone. Crawford and Black Kettle fell hastily to work, since there was much to be done ere nightfall. Perrot, fast bound in fever, was tossing and moaning. After locating a sheltered and hidden spot on a hillside, they carried him to it; there was a bed of pine boughs to be laid, a shelter to be constructed, precious dry wood to be uncovered and collected. The packs had to be moved and the fire-embers transferred. In all this Black Kettle was at a disadvantage, for he had twisted his ankle badly and walking was painful. Crawford resigned himself to this delay, the more easily because of the singular coincidence which had brought him and Perrot together. Or was it coincidence? He had come from the northeast, Perrot from the southeast, roughly aiming at a mutual point; why, then, should they not have met before reaching that point? It was natural enough.