After all, Tecumthe could do little against this murderous gang by himself. How, then, did he intend to "strike"? Did he have a band of his warriors outside?
"It wasn't such a wild shot about those moccasins after all," came Red Hugh's chuckling whisper. "Looks like he's going to give us a chance to slip away. Work your arms a bit."
The Louisianian nodded, and very slowly perceived life creeping back into his numbed hands. Grigg and the rest were roaring at the antics of the drunken, fighting Miamis; Duval, perched on a big hogshead at the far end of the room, was inciting them to further efforts.
Locked in pairs, the warriors were striking, kicking, rolling over the floor in a bestial encounter which left Norton shocked to the core; he had heard of these affairs often but had never seen one before.
Duval's men were plying them with liquor amid wild shouts of encouragement, and were fast growing drunk themselves; so far, however, they were too much interested in their amusements to bother the squaws, who stood lined up against the farther wall and grouped around the door.
Again Grigg's interest got the better of his prudence, and with a bellow he leaped out to join in the horse-play. Kitty, left alone, shrank past the tall figure of Tecumthe toward Norton, who put out his hand and gripped her arm.
"Quiet!" he said softly, as she turned with a startled exclamation. "Be ready to make for the door, Kitty."
Wide-eyed, she stared into his face for a moment, and under cover of her body Norton half rose to take the pistols which Tecumthe passed him. He put one into the hand of Red Hugh then waited.
There was not long to wait. With a sudden movement, Tecumthe flung the blanket from his splendid figure and stood forth in all the glory of his half-naked bronze, unpainted. His voice rang out like a clarion:
"Peace, dogs!"