Yelling, jumping, flaming with the liquor of the Bois-Brules, they fell upon the two men and dragged them, half-falling, half-running, toward the circle, into it, and up to the fire.
“Ho-ho! ho-ho-o! Ha-ha! ha-ha-a! ha-ha!”
Faces wild as the devil's dreams pushed close, hands plucked at them, and suddenly a dozen painted braves caught up handfuls of live coals and flung them upon them.
In the midst of it McElroy looked stupidly at De Courtenay.
“For the love of God!” he said, “why did you not run?”
“Why didn't you?”
The cavalier was laughing.
“I could not, M'sieu,” he added; “the charm of the hazard was too great.”
And that was the last word he offered the man who would have delivered him, turning to face the savages.
“Dogs!” he cried in French; “dogs and sons of dogs!”