Slowly the night dragged away between dozing and the pain of their bonds. Shortly after daylight one of the slatternly women came with food and water and fed them amid a stream of ribaldry and curses. Norton was glad when at length she departed and left them alone. A guard was stationed at the door, but no speech passed between the two captives. Red Hugh stared up unblinking at the beams above, a wild ferocity gathered in his blood-stained face. Toward noon there was shouting and the thud of hoofs from outside, and Duval entered hastily with Abel Grigg. Norton rightly conjectured that the circuit-rider had arrived. "Give him that far cabin," ordered the lawyer hurriedly and in a low voice. "Keep him quiet in there and don't let him suspect anything yet. I'll visit him later. He's a coward, from his face, and I'll fix him up right." At last that long day came to an end; as sunset darkened the barn-like structure, the camp awoke into activity. Hogsheads and casks and sacks were piled to the roof at the far end, where half a dozen whisky kegs were also set out, ready to be broached later. Around the walls were hung lanterns, while the centre of the floor was cleared for the fun. Norton and Red Hugh, still fast bound, were placed on a pile of sacks near the door, in partial obscurity. From the scattered talk of the men Norton gathered that they intended carrying off some of the prettiest of the Miami squaws after the debauch; also, all seemed well with their projects and they were in high fettle, for the Miamis had arrived. An hour later the lanterns were lighted and the gang assembled. Grigg brought in the angry and frightened Kitty, forcing her to a place not far from the two prisoners, he himself standing beside her. At sight of her white features, Norton tugged desperately but vainly at his bonds, raging. In all there were fourteen of the gang, and five women--most of them already half-drunk and all of them brutish in the extreme. The circuit-rider did not put in an appearance. Now the Miamis were brought in, men at the door relieving them of their guns as they came, and Grigg shaking hands with the warriors in turn. Of these there were a score. Norton was rather surprised to find that the squaws, all enveloped in blankets from head to heel, numbered nearly twice as many as the braves. One or two of the gang attempted familiarities, but these Duval rebuked with an iron fist. They were squalid red men enough, were these Miami warriors; liquor-sodden, shuffling, and debased in the extreme. One alone seemed of superior quality. He was a tall figure, blanket-swathed to the waist, who, after his handshake with Grigg, cast a swift glance around and then stood immobile not far from Norton's recumbent figure. Kitty watched in evident ignorance of what was going on; she was soon undeceived. "Broach the kegs, boys!" shouted Duval suddenly, when the last of the Miamis had entered.