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The time for the next few hours indeed for the night is confused. My shoulder was dressed and bound with herbs, and I was laid on a bed of rushes. Outchipouac, the Malhominis war chief, knew from former acquaintance with me that I had prejudices and would not lie where it was not clean, and so he humored me and gave orders that the rushes be freshly cut.
"But I have been to the south far out of your cousin's way. I go next to the Malhominis. I think I shall certainly hear tidings of him there." "You go to-morrow?" "I must, madame. Madame, I have been anxious about you. Will you promise me not to stray alone from the camp?" She left the cabin and came and stood beside me in the quiet and starshine. She looked off at the forest.
I had left word at the islands that I was on my way to confer with the Malhominis, but I had not committed myself as to where I should make my permanent camp. I hoped, in this game of hide and seek, to shake off the Huron, and leave the woman in safe hiding, while I went on my mission from tribe to tribe. And so I told the men to work with muffled paddles.
I parceled the spoil among the tribes, and did it without doubt of my judgment or care for its acceptance. I remembered Outchipouac's plea for his people, and found it just. The Malhominis had sent the largest force in proportion to the strength of their tribe, and their position on the bay was strategical. So I gave them their choice of a third of the captives.
It was an hour short of midnight when we saw the west shore. I could take no bearings in the dim light, so we nosed along, uncertain whether to go north or south to find the mouth of the Wild Rice River where the Malhominis had their home. We held a short colloquy and started northward. Suddenly Pierre shot his canoe beside my own. "A camp!" he breathed in a giant whisper. I suspended my paddle.
And all the while the bells kept ringing, ringing. A shower of arrows fell around me, and one grazed my foot. A man must be far gone indeed when an arrow point will not sting him to life. I was no longer a fever-riven log of driftwood. I knew where I was and what was happening. I had reached the Malhominis village.
We were on our way to the Malhominis, and I slept most of the distance, for nature was in revolt. Yet through all my heavy slumber droned the voice of Onanguissé, and always he repeated what he had said when we parted. "I called her the turtle dove. But at heart she was an eagle. Did you ask her to peck and twitter like a tame robin? I could have told you that she would fly away."
I thought of it when I went through the Malhominis land and saw all those squashes. The Indian sews her own dresses, and I shall tell her I do not like her in finery. We will send a capon to the master every Christmas." I grinned despite myself. I had grown fatuous, for I had taken it without question that the oaf had followed from his loyalty to me.
They outnumbered the Malhominis, but the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes were all within a day's journey, and would come at my call. The time for the alliance of which I had told them was at hand. My body was crippled but my brain was whole. To-morrow he, the chief, at my bidding, and with my watchword, would send runners through the tribes.
He had rescued me, clothed me, furnished me the means of war. My victories were his victories. These were his conditions. All Iroquois slaves that might be captured were to belong to the Malhominis to be incorporated in their tribe. The other tribes could divide the plunder, but the Malhominis needed new blood for adoption. I must agree to that. He stopped.
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