The battle had raged, Sponge-belly told his incredulous countrymen, for three days. It was a battle of giants. Because of the white man’s medicine, their war canoes moved with the aid of giant mats, not only in the direction of the wind, but even against the wind.

Of all the braves who had fought in the battle, Sponge-belly concluded, none had equaled the exploits of the Saukie-ok; for they, alone and unaided, had captured three of the Long Knives, one a great medicine man: another a great sorcerer, familiar with the magic which caused a war-canoe to move against the wind; the third an orator who spoke with many tongues—with the tongues of the English, the French, the Iroquois, and the Hurons, as well as in the language of the Saukie-ok.

In short, Sponge-belly referred to us proudly, after the fashion of a man who seeks to enhance his own importance by bragging to acquaintances of the accomplishments of his friends—friends whom he will never willingly relinquish. The Sacs in the council house stared at us with friendly glances that recalled the faint indulgent smile of Lanaudiere, and I feared that now I knew the full meaning of that smile. Behind those sleepy eyes of his had lurked the amused certainty that henceforth I would be held where I could never again have a finger in the war—held where I could nevermore meddle, by accident or design, with Marie de Sabrevois or any of the plans that she and he together might evolve.

XLVI

I HAVE no doubt Doc’s magic would have made him popular with these simple and credulous people under any conditions; but none of us could have anticipated the wave of popularity that inundated him.

At the end of Sponge-belly’s speech, he signaled us to rise; and when we did so, Tiny, too, got up. Then his leg bent beneath him, and he pitched to the earth floor. He clutched his ankle with both hands. It must have been painful, for his painted face was contorted.

Doc reached him by crawling between the legs of the throng of sympathetic onlookers. He got to his feet to stand astride Tiny and shake an angry fist at the copper-colored faces pressed almost against his own.

“Ain’t you got no sense?” he cried. “Git back away from this boy before he suffocates in addition to what he’s got! How’ll I make an examination with a hundred of you red minks sticking your knees in my back every time I stoop over!”

Verrieul spoke to him quickly. “Be careful, Doc! Tiny’s the son of the medicine man! The medicine man might take a dislike to you.”

“That won’t be nothing new!” Doc said placidly. “That’s the way doctors are. Anyway, seeing as how Tiny’s a friend of ours, we’ll fix him up first and do our worrying afterwards.”