Now, in among the thick trees, the Star Woman pointed out her own lodge, a bark structure dimly visible to the left; Crawford gathered that this was some sort of a sacred grove, where she lived inviolate. Presently the trees thinned and they came to a clearing; here were the bark lodges of the Issanti Dacotah, and two hide tepees of the Teton clan.
Now Crawford understood the lay of the land, and for a little there glowed within him a sudden flash of hope. All this abode of the Star Woman lay upon the apex of a rude triangle of rock—the lofty brow of a cliff that jutted out into the lake like a ship’s prow, shielded on either converging side by precipitous descents to the land and water below. Across the base of this triangle the higher ground ran down steeply to the forest beyond; yet here there was a natural defence formed by a deep ravine which ran in from either side, leaving at the centre an open space of barely twenty yards in width. Crawford eyed all this with immense satisfaction, then saw Frontin approaching and turned.
At the edge of the grove, flooded with golden glory in the sunset light, were gathered some of the Star Woman’s defenders—a number of Standing Bull’s warriors, fitting thin iron heads to shafts for the bows; Old Bear and his handful of Tetons, wild and fierce men who carried round shields of hide; and seated against a tree was Le Talon, dressing his scalplock with grease and looking over his paint-pouch. Frontin came up, bowed with a certain air of deference to the Star Woman, and spoke to Crawford.
“How like you the situation, cap’n? Standing Bull and some of his warriors are scouting the enemy. We’ll hear from them before dark.”
“Things might be worse,” and Crawford pointed to the narrow space between the ravines ahead. “There’s the point to defend, with the ground falling away in front. Excellent! Who is in charge?”
“Ask madame,” said Frontin, and Crawford turned to the Star Woman. To his surprise, she hesitated, anxiety in her face.
“I should like you to be in charge,” she said. “And yet—there must be no fighting if it can be avoided! Blood must not be shed in this place. It is sacred to me, and to the red men——”
As though to resolve her doubts, a thin, high yell arose from the forest below, where the green trees ran into hilly country. At sound of this yell, a delighted grunt went up from the Dacotah. One of them spoke out.
“That is the scalp-yell of Standing Bull; he has counted coup. Was-te! Good!”
“I leave everything in your hands,” said the girl hastily, an expression of despair flitting across her face. She turned to the warriors, ordered them to obey Crawford, and then walked in among the trees and vanished in the direction of her own abode. Frontin glanced after her with his darkly sardonic gaze, and shrugged.