“The olden fanes fall crumbling, the chatter of priests and the mystery of woman alike are withered and desolate in the breath of ambition,” he murmured. “That crooked pine tree under which you lay, my cap’n, was a sacred tree among these people; blood must not touch this ground. Well, all that is ended! The white man has come into the land, and oddly enough he reveres the same symbol—a crooked Tree. The difference is, that his is stained with blood——”
Frontin broke off abruptly, as though fearing to trace his thought farther.
“Forget your moralizing and get to work,” said Crawford curtly. He walked over to Old Bear, and the Teton chief grinned at him in recognition. “Old Bear, put your warriors to work! A barricade must be laid across this narrow ground to-night. Frontin, have we any guns?”
“Half a dozen,” said Frontin. “Standing Bull and his scouts are using them. Will you have the barricade laid with bastions and chevaux-de-frise in approved fashion——”
“Any way at all, so it be laid,” said Crawford. “What water and food have we?”
“A spring, and a fair stock of meat and corn.”
The warriors fell to work, with Old Bear and Frontin ordering them. Crawford walked across to the Mohegan, who met his eyes and chuckled.
“My brother is well again; that is good! His medicine is strong. To-morrow he shall see how a chief of the Loup nation dies, that he may tell Metaminens the story.”
“We’ll not die to-morrow,” said Crawford. “No word has come from Perrot or from the Dacotah to the south?”
“None. The place here is surrounded and cut off. Ah! Here is Standing Bull!”