Still she held to me. "Where is Singing Arrow?"
I looked at Cadillac. He shook his head. "They found the Indian woman this morning," he said. "She was dead beside her husband. Do not grieve for her. Her face is more than happy; it is triumphant. My men called me to look. Will you see her now, madame?"
But she could not answer. The hands that held mine began to chill, and
I saw the brown throat quiver. I turned to Cadillac. "I have no tent.
May I take madame to yours?"
He placed all that he had at her service. He was moved, for he did it with scant phrase.
"But one moment," he begged. "Montlivet, one word with your wife first. Madame, I beg you to listen. Will you look around you here?"
She stopped. "I have looked, monsieur."
"Madame, you see those Indians. They are war chiefs and picked braves. The brawn and brain of six tribes are collected here before you. Do you know what that means?"
I saw her look at him gravely. "I should understand. I have lived in
Indian camps, monsieur."
He looked back at her with sudden admiration that crowded the calculation out of his eyes. "Madame!" he exclaimed. "We know your spirit and knowledge; we wish that you could teach us some new way to show you homage. But do you understand your husband's power? You have never seen him in the field. Look at these war chiefs. They are arrogant and untamed, but they follow your husband like parish-school children. It is marvelous, madame."
She lifted her long deer's throat, and I felt her thrill. "Monsieur, I think that not even you can know half what I do of my husband's strength and power."