The magic spell was broken; the shots of the Stone Men were drums of materialism, grimly recalling Crawford to the present. He drew a deep breath and turned to accompany her toward the thick trees that fringed in the little point of rock. He brought himself to face what he knew well must be a desperate situation. “How many men have you here?” he demanded, his thinly chiseled features tensed and alert once more. The Star Woman gave him a curious look, sensing the change. “Standing Bull has fifteen of his young men here; Old Bear brought five warriors from the Teton clan, to the west. With you, Frontin, and the Mohegan, that makes twenty-five.” “Have you healed Le Talon, then, as you have me?” A sad smile touched her lips. “I cannot do more than is humanly possible. The chief’s leg will always be crippled, for flesh and muscles are shrunken.” Now, in among the thick trees, the Star Woman pointed out her own lodge, a bark structure dimly visible to the left; Crawford gathered that this was some sort of a sacred grove, where she lived inviolate. Presently the trees thinned and they came to a clearing; here were the bark lodges of the Issanti Dacotah, and two hide tepees of the Teton clan. Now Crawford understood the lay of the land, and for a little there glowed within him a sudden flash of hope. All this abode of the Star Woman lay upon the apex of a rude triangle of rock--the lofty brow of a cliff that jutted out into the lake like a ship’s prow, shielded on either converging side by precipitous descents to the land and water below. Across the base of this triangle the higher ground ran down steeply to the forest beyond; yet here there was a natural defence formed by a deep ravine which ran in from either side, leaving at the centre an open space of barely twenty yards in width. Crawford eyed all this with immense satisfaction, then saw Frontin approaching and turned. At the edge of the grove, flooded with golden glory in the sunset light, were gathered some of the Star Woman’s defenders--a number of Standing Bull’s warriors, fitting thin iron heads to shafts for the bows; Old Bear and his handful of Tetons, wild and fierce men who carried round shields of hide; and seated against a tree was Le Talon, dressing his scalplock with grease and looking over his paint-pouch. Frontin came up, bowed with a certain air of deference to the Star Woman, and spoke to Crawford. “How like you the situation, cap’n? Standing Bull and some of his warriors are scouting the enemy. We’ll hear from them before dark.” “Things might be worse,” and Crawford pointed to the narrow space between the ravines ahead. “There’s the point to defend, with the ground falling away in front. Excellent! Who is in charge?” “Ask madame,” said Frontin, and Crawford turned to the Star Woman. To his surprise, she hesitated, anxiety in her face.