We hesitated a moment, then stooped and
entered the place.
CHAPTER XXXIII IN WHICH MY FRIEND BECOMES MY FOE
IN the centre of the wigwam the customary fire burned clear and
bright, showing the white mats, the dressed skins, the implements
of war hanging upon the bark walls, - all the usual furniture of an
Indian dwelling, - and showing also Nantauquas standing against
the stripped trunk of a pine that pierced the wigwam from floor to
roof. The fire was between us. He stood so rigid, at his full height,
with folded arms and head held high, and his features were so
blank and still, so forced and frozen, as it were, into composure,
that, with the red light beating upon him and the thin smoke
curling above his head, he had the look of a warrior tied to the
stake.
"Nantauquas!" I exclaimed, and striding past the fire would have
touched him but that with a slight and authoritative motion of the
hand he kept me back. Otherwise there was no change in his
position or in the dead calm of his face.
The Indian maid had dropped the mat at the entrance, and if she
waited, waited without in the darkness. Diccon, now staring at the
young chief, now eyeing the weapons upon the wall with all a
lover's passion, kept near the doorway. Through the thickness of
the bark and woven twigs the wild cries and singing came to us
somewhat faintly; beneath that distant noise could be heard the
wind in the trees and the soft fall of the burning pine.
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