[9]
While Radisson was still hesitating, the suspicious Iroquois demanded
what so much whispering was about; but the alert Algonquin promptly
quieted their fears by trumping up some hunting story. Wearied from
their day's hunt, the three Mohawks slept heavily round the camp-fire.
They had not the least suspicion of danger, for they had stacked their
arms carelessly against the trees of the forest. Terrified lest the
Algonquin should attempt to carry out his threat, Radisson pretended to
be asleep. Rising noiselessly, the Algonquin sat down by the fire.
The Mohawks slept on. The Algonquin gave Radisson a push. The French
boy looked up to see the Algonquin studying the postures of the
sleeping forms. The dying fire glimmered like a blotch of blood under
the trees. Stepping stealthy as a cat over the sleeping men, the
Indian took possession of their firearms. Drawn by a kind of horror,
Radisson had risen. The Algonquin thrust one of the tomahawks into the
French lad's hands and pointed without a word at the three sleeping
Mohawks. Then the Indian began the black work. The Mohawk nearest the
fire never knew that he had been struck, and died without a sound.
Radisson tried to imitate the relentless Algonquin, but, unnerved with
horror, he bungled the blow and lost hold of the hatchet just as it
struck the Mohawk's head. The Iroquois sprang up with a shout that
awakened the third man, but the Algonquin was ready. Radisson's blow
proved fatal.
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