Meantime, Grigg and Red Hugh were engaged in a mighty struggle, strength against strength, giant against giant. Reeling over the turf, the four men again came together in mad collision; as they did so, Norton sent his knife home for the second time, and now Duval fell away from him. Barely had he done so when Red Hugh's pistol crashed out. Grigg had taken warning, and ducked, flinging his arms about Moore's waist. Directly behind him was Norton, and as the shot flamed out, the Louisianian flung his arms wide and toppled over the body of Duval. Then, for the first time, Tecumthe leaped forward. Frenzied by what he had done, Red Hugh had beaten Grigg back with the pistol-butt, and Grigg flashed out his tomahawk to throw. Before his arm came up, Tecumthe had sprung between them like a thing of steel; his own knife flamed in the lurid glare, and Grigg collapsed. Red Hugh stood for a moment, pistol in hand. There was a look of awful grief on his face, and without a word he knelt over Norton. For a moment he felt the heart of the Louisianian, fumbled under the latter's shirt, and then held up a small gold eagle. "Good God," he muttered slowly, as he held the eagle up to the lurid light of the burning buildings. "What's this? What----" For he had turned over the pin, and had read the letters graven on its under side. Slowly he tottered up, then looked at the uncomprehending Tecumthe, a terrible horror in his eyes. "Hugh Edward Moore--my own pin--I've killed him----" And then, with a terrible cry, he fell upon Norton's body. CHAPTER XVI Norton awoke, with the strange and persistent idea that the face of Audubon was bending over him. It was nonsense, of course; he turned his head, and saw that he lay quite alone, opposite a doorway. The sun was warm and bright outside. What of that horrible nightmare, that hell of death and madmen, of which he had dreamed? The very remembrance brought out the cold sweat on his brow; he lifted his hand and found his head bandaged. Yet, looking out that doorway, he slowly recalled what had happened on that night of horror, for he was gazing across the clearing where it had taken place. There was no doubt of it; a hundred yards away were the ruins of the burned building, the cache-barn; he himself, then, must be lying in that shack to which he had brought the women? The place seemed deserted, however. There were no Indians in sight; no bodies strewed the clearing; everyone seemed to have vanished and left him alone in desolation. No--he was mistaken after all; a voice strangely like that of Audubon lifted faintly to him. "--so do you see how he is, sir. I must look to the litter." "Good heavens, am I mad?" thought Norton. He strained to sit up, but found himself too weak. An instant later a tall, stooping figure darkened the doorway and came to his side with a cry of joy.