“None. The singing has died down during the last hour. There, you can hear it, M’sieu.”
“Yes. But it is only a few voices. It must be that the others are sleeping off the liquor. They will soon awaken.”
“Listen.”
A musket was fired, and another.
“That is the signal.”
The song, which one group after another had taken up all through the night, rose again and grew in volume as one at a time the sleepers aroused and joined the dance. The only sign of the fire was a pillar of thin smoke that rolled straight upward in the still air.
“Father,” said Menard, “are the guards about?”
“I have not seen them. I suppose they are wandering within call.”
“Then, quickly, before we are seen, help me with this log.” 214
“I do not understand, M’sieu.”