"No, not all, I think," Ta-wan-ne-ars answered after a moment. "Five are slain and fourteen others lie here. But I do not see the Otter."
He addressed the warrior next to him, but none of our fellow-prisoners could account for the Otter.
"The Otter suspected something wrong," I said. "'Twas he who answered the owl's call."
"It may be he escaped," replied Ta-wan-ne-ars. "I must warn our brothers to say naught of him. If the keepers do not suspect, they may believe they have all of us safe in their net."
He whispered his warning to the man beside him, and it was passed down the line.
"Your head is much swollen, brother," he said, rolling over again so as to face me. "Let Ta-wan-ne-ars make shift to bathe it with snow."
A shadow fell athwart us as we lay and a mocking voice replied for me:
"By all means, most excellent Iroquois. I trust you will nurse our valuable captive back to full strength and health."
I struggled to a sitting position, for I liked not to lie at de Veulle's feet, however much I might be at his mercy.
"So you walked into the spider's web," he continued, standing betwixt me and the firelight which ruddied his sinful face. "A woman's plea—and you threw caution to the winds! You fool! I used to value you as an enemy, but 'tis tame work fighting against a man who thinks I keep so easy a watch as to permit our beautiful friend to come and go as she lists."