Some of the Miamis ceased their scuffling; others continued: one startled oath passed around the line of white men as they saw him step forward. He made no pause, but raised a clenched fist.
"Dogs of white men!" And his clear voice seemed to hold even Duval transfixed. "Outcasts from your own race! Murderers! Why do you thus debase my red brethren, the Miamis? I know you—who you are and what you do in the Shawnee country. I know your crimes. I am going to show my white brethren that Tecumthe can punish murderers better than they!"
As the dread word Tecumthe passed through the hall, Duval leaped to his feet with a yell of warning. It was too late. The line of squaws flung off their blankets and stepped forth as warriors in all the glory of Shawnee war-paint, rifles in hand. From outside came one shrill war-whoop—and the interior of the building became an inferno as the first rifles roared out.
Awful as the thing was, Norton had no pity for Duval's gang. He leaped up, seized Kitty, and with Red Hugh at his side made for the doorway. Here a Shawnee halted them with levelled rifle, but after a look at Norton waved them on outside.
Kitty had fainted, mercifully.
The whole clearing seemed covered with yelling, whooping demons. As the three emerged, Norton saw that the kitchens had been fired, the flames lighting up the whole scene. An instant later, while Red Hugh was taking the feet of the senseless girl, Tecumthe himself joined them and led them across the clearing to one of the farther cabins.
Here, under guard of a stalwart warrior, who went leaping off at sight of his chief, they found a trembling, terror-smitten circuit-rider who was too frightened to do more than grovel before the chief. Tecumthe kicked him away, and Norton lowered Kitty's body to the pallet in the corner.
Despite all he knew about this gang, despite their intentions, he felt himself somewhat a traitor to his own race. Red Hugh must have felt much the same thing, for he was standing glaring at the chief, his eyes terrible.
"It is not vengeance," said Tecumthe composedly, watching the low building with gloomy eye. "It is justice. A squaw met my men; they told me of one who wore my moccasins, in bonds. I knew of these white men, and I came in haste. That is all."
"It's not all," cried Norton with sudden remembrance. "There are women in that place——"