"Run!" it cried, as he fell clear; "run! And tell Maren Le Moyne that
her name is last upon my lips,--her face last before--"
Out above the words there rang the shrill cry of the guard, his mouth
uncovered by McElroy's shaking off.
The Indian had whirled and grappled with De Courtenay, and, before
McElroy could tear him loose, fighting like a madman, out from the
yelling circle there poured an avalanche of lunatics, jerked from
Gehenna by that ringing cry.
Foremost was Bois DesCaut, his evil eyes glinting like a witch's omen.
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.
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