From one detail of the medicine-men's costumes to another, from one mesmeric swing of arm and body to the next went Doby's glance in vague alarm. Last of all, he viewed the sizzling rock.
A sacrificial cannibal rock!
Not all the poniards of the realm could have helped Doby to self-control. He swooned upon the turf.
Bending to raise the boy, Francis Vigo brought his own face into a patch of moonlight. His captor recognized him. For what Indian did not know Francis Vigo? Vigo caught the expression of friendliness, and with an imperious gesture signified that they must be taken from this spot.
It was daytime when Doby again opened his eyes. He was between the voyageurs under the fallen tree near the canoes. On the river bank sat the old Indians. Francis Vigo, jaunty in velvet, cap, plume, and sword, was smoking the calumet.
One voyageur whispered to Doby, "Indians want to burn Vincennes."
The other murmured, "Père François tries to prevent that."
The first again: "They mean to join with renegades and capture the fort. Renegades get Government money. Indians get fire-water."
Doby whispered back, "Has he told them that he took the money and the papers worth money to Fort Wayne?"