A medicine man,
hideous in adornments of buffalo horns and bearskin, approached De
Courtenay and with a feather painted on his bare breast a circle of
black with little red flames within.
McElroy was decorated in like manner, save that his circle was red and
it enclosed a death-maul, a dozen little arrows, and two knives.
Thus was foreshadowed the manner of their death.
Then arose a babble of voices.
"The White Doe! The White Doe that runs in the forest! Now shall She
who Follows decide!"
And into the midst of the vast circle once more Maren Le Moyne was
brought. She stood panting as they drew back and left her, and McElroy
looked upon her as he had never looked upon living being in all his
days.
There was the same high head, shining in the light, the same tall form
sweet in its rounded womanhood, the same strong shoulders, and from
them hung the white garment that he had carried to her door that day,
in spring. He had wondered then if he would ever see it cling to the
swelling breast, set up the round throat from its foamy fringe. And
thus he saw it again as he had dreamed, though, Holy Mother! in what
sad plight!
She had told him she would wear it.
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