Once he had
come upon her while she slept. Oh, happy thief, to have pressed his
lips upon that cheek, blooming delicately as a Persian peach! And that
memory was all he had. She did not love him!
The musing came to an abrupt end. A moccasined foot shot out and
struck Victor in the small of the back, sending him reeling toward the
fire. In trying to save himself he extended his hands. He fell upon a
glowing ember, and his palms were burned cruelly. Cries of laughter
resounded through the hut. Victor bit his lips to repress the cry of
pain.
With the agility of a panther, the Chevalier sprang toward the bully.
There was a terrible smile on his face as he seized the young brave's
wrists in a grip of iron. The Oneida was a strong youth, but he
wrestled in vain. The Chevalier had always been gifted with strength,
and these weeks of toil and hardship had turned his muscles into fibers
unyielding as oak. Gradually he turned the Indian around. The others
watched the engagement with breathless interest. Presently the Indian
came to his knees. Quick as light the Chevalier forced him upon his
face, caught an arm by the elbow and shoved the brown hand into the
fire.
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