I knew, without comment, that he was telling me the truth, and I stood
still. The din of the dancing and feasting was growing more and more
uproarious, and the Indians were ripe for any insanity. I saw that the
sun was already casting long shadows, and that the night would be on us
before many hours. I looked at the garrison. Two hundred Frenchmen
all told, and most of them half-hearted when it came to defending an
Englishman and a foe! I turned to my man.

"You have been with an Ottawa girl, called Singing Arrow," I said.
"Are you bringing me some woman's tale you learned from her?"

He squirmed like a clumsy puppy, but I could see his pride in my
omniscience. "She is smarter than a man," he said vaguely.

And Pierre were the man, I thought that likely. "Take me to her," I
commanded.

I expected to follow him among the revelers, but he turned his back on
them, and led the way through a labyrinth of huts, a maze so winding
that I judged him more sober than I had thought. When we found the
girl, she was alone, and I saw from her look that this was not the
first visit Pierre had made.

He summoned her importantly, while I withdrew to a distance, that I
might have her brought to me in form. I was intent and uneasy, but I
had room in my heart for vain self-satisfaction that I knew something
of the Ottawa speech. My proficiency in Indian dialects, for which the
world praised me lightly, as it might commend the cut of my doublet,
had cost me much drudgery and denial, and my moments of reward were
rare.