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Page 271
Many Indians prided themselves on hospitality. He only hoped that Nahtana wouldn't turn to see him before he had time to act. He approached the fire with his hands extended, as though he wished to warm them.
He knelt. Sticking from the edge of the fire was the end of a large, dry branch, nearly the size of his arm. He looked around. No one paid attention to him.
Swiftly, he pulled the branch from the fire and heaved it to the top of the pile of pelts. The skins, as yet uncured, were still damp, but the fur caught fire immediately, emitting a terrible stench.
The Indians inside the cave noticed it first; he heard their yells. With a force he felt to his toes, he kicked the campfire to further block their exit. From what he could tell, they were all trapped inside. He heard their angry screams.
The Indians outside the cave noticed the commotion and ran toward him. He tripped the first, fell with him onto the dust and bashed his head on the ground. As the second approached, Thorn knelt, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet, then sprang, clutching at the savage's throat with one hand. With the other, he pulled his knife from the sheath at his belt and plunged it into the Indian's chest.
He heard a frenzied growl from beside him and found Nahtana approaching. Where was Mariah?
There was movement behind the trees where the soldiers were tied. She was getting them loose, bless her.
"Here!" he called, tossing his knife in her direction, just as Nahtana leapt at him, brandishing a knife of his own. Thorn caught his thin wrist, but the Indian managed to keep the knife pointed at Thorn's eyes. He said something Thorn did not understand, but the meaning was clear.
He wanted to kill Thorn.
For long moments, they stood there. The sharp point of the knife drew slowly toward Thorn's face, but there was no time to be afraid. He had to act. He tried to reach around with a leg to trip Nahtana. The Indian anticipated and moved his thin, greasy body lithely back, not loosening his grip on the knife.

 
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