I were a reptile.

I took my own sword, and laid it on the table. "I am a fool," I said,
not for the first time that day. "But how will Frontenac look at your
handing a white man over to torture?"

Cadillac put up his sword. "My orders are plain," he said, tapping a
sheaf of papers on his desk. "They came in the last packet. I am to
treat all prisoners in the Indian manner. As you say, the Indians have
come to think us chicken-hearted. We must give them more than words if
we are to hold them as allies."

I seized sword and hat. "You are a good servant," I said. "I wish you
joy of your obedience," and I plunged toward the door.

But an orderly stopped me on the threshold. "Is Monsieur de la
Mothe-Cadillac within?" he asked. "The Baron desires an audience with
him."

Cadillac pushed up behind me. "I am here," he called to the orderly.
"Tell the Baron that I will see him when the sun touches the water-line."
Then he pulled me back into the room. "How much do you think the Baron
knows?" he demanded.

I felt shame for my forgetfulness. "Pemaou was in the Ottawa camp," I
said, and I told him what had happened.

Cadillac's face hardened. "Then they have sent to demand the prisoner,"
he pondered moodily. "I had hoped for a few hours' respite. There might
have been some way for the prisoner to escape."