When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch, and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth; also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand. He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the transparent hands and smiled assuringly.
For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to entertain calmly, he went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him through the gloom and touched his elbow.
"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"
"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game," replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."
"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something goin' on outside, for certain."
"What?" asked the other.
Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles beside him, for lack of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished in the night.
"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.
Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from the hidden enemy.
"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir Ralph know of it."