 | CHAPTER XIII. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
On some protecting influence; here confined,
Life hath no healing balm for mental woes;
Earth is too narrow for the immortal mind.
Our spirits burn to mingle with the day,
As exiles panting for their native coast;
Yet lured by every wild-flower from their way,
And shrinking from the gulf that must be crossed;
Death hovers round us — in the zephyr's sigh
As in the storm he comes — and lo! Eternity!
Mrs. Hemans.
It was probably that inherent disposition to pry into
unknown things, which is said to mark her sex, and which
was the weakness assailed by the serpent when he deluded
Eve into disobedience, that now tempted Margery to go
beyond the limits which Pigeonswing had set for her, with
a view to explore and ascertain what might be found without.
In doing this, however, she did not neglect a certain
degree of caution, and avoided exposing her person as
much as possible.
Margery had got to the very verge of prudence, so far as
the cover was concerned, when her steps were suddenly
arrested by a most unexpected and disagreeable sight. An
Indian was seated on a rock within twenty feet of the
place where she stood. His back was towards her, but
she was certain it could not be Pigeonswing, who had gone
in a contrary direction, while the frame of this savage was
much larger and heavier than that of the Chippewa. His
rifle leaned against the rock, near his arm, and the tomahawk
and knife were in his belt; still Margery thought, so
far as she could ascertain, that he was not in his war-paint,
as she knew was the fact with those whom she had seen at
Prairie Round. The attitude and whole deportment of this
stranger, too, struck her as remarkable. Although our heroine
stood watching him for several minutes, almost
breathless with terror and anxiety to learn his object, he
never stirred even a limb in all that time. There he sate,
picture of solitude and reflection!
It was evident, moreover, that this stranger also sought
a species of concealment, as well as the fugitives. It is
true he had not buried himself in a cover of bushes; but
his seat was in a hollow of the ground where no one could
have seen him, from the rear or on either side, at a distance
a very little greater than that at which Margery
stood, while his front was guarded from view by a line of
bushes that fringed the margin of the stream. Marius,
pondering on the mutations of fortune, amid the ruins of
Carthage, could scarcely have presented a more striking
object than the immoveable form of this stranger. At
length the Indian slightly turned his head, when his
observer, to her great surprise, saw the hard, red, but
noble and expressive profile of the well-known features of
Peter.
In an instant all Margery's apprehensions vanished, and
her hand was soon lightly laid on the shoulder of her
friend. Notwithstanding the suddenness of this touch, the
great chief manifested no alarm. He turned his head
slowly, and when he saw the bright countenance of the
charming bride, his smile met hers in pleased recognition.
There was no start, no exclamation, no appearance of surprise;
on the contrary, Peter seemed to meet his pretty
young friend much as a matter of course, and obviously
with great satisfaction.
“How lucky this is, Peter!” exclaimed the breathless
Margery. “Bourdon's mind will now be at rest, for he
was afraid you had gone to join our enemies; Bear's Meat
and his party.”
“Yes; go and stay wid'em. So bess. Now dey t'ink
Peter all on deir side. But nebber forget you, young
Blossom.”
“I believe you, Peter; for I feel as if you are a true
friend. How lucky that we should meet here!”
“No luck at all. Come a purpose. Pigeonswing tell
me where you be, so come here. Juss so.”
“Then you expected to find us in this cover! and what
have you to tell us of our enemies?”
“Plenty of dem. All about mout' of river. All about
of nuttin' but get your scalp.”
“Ah! Peter; — why is it that you red men wish so
much to take our lives?—and why have you destroyed the
missionary, a pious Christian, who wished for nothing but
your good?”
Peter bent his eyes to the earth, and for more than a
minute he made no reply. He was much moved, however,
as was visible in his countenance, which plainly denoted
that strong emotions were at work within.
“Blossom, listen to my words,” he, at length, answered.
“They are such as a fader would speak to his da'ghter.
You my da'ghter. Tell you so, once; and what Injin say
once, he say alway. Poor, and don't know much, but
know how to do as he say he do. Yes, you my da'ghter!
Bear's Meat can't touch you, widout he touch me. Bourdon
your husband; you his squaw. Husband and squaw
go togedder, on same path. Dat right. But, Blossom,
listen. Dere is Great Spirit. Injin believe dat as well as
pale-face. See dat is so. Dere is Great Wicked Spirit,
too. Feel dat, too; can't help it. For twenty winter dat
Great Wicked Spirit stay close to my side. He put his
hand before one of my ear, and he put his mout' to tudder.
Keep whisper, whisper, whisper, day and night, nebber stop
whisper. Tell me to kill pale-face, wherever I find him.
Bess to kill him. If didn't kill pale-face, pale-face kill
Injin. No help for it. Kill ole man, kill young man; kill
squaws, pappoose and all. Smash eggs and break up'e
nest. Dat what he whisper, day and night, for twenty
winters. Whisper so much, was force to b'lieve him. Bad
to have too much whisper of same t'ing in ear. Den, I
want scalp. Couldn't have too much scalp. Took much
scalp. All pale-face scalp. Heart grow hard. Great
pleasure was to kill pale-face. Dat feeling last, Blossom,
till I see you. Feel like fader to you, and don't want your
scalp. Won'er great deal why I feel so, but do feel so.
Dat my natur'. Still want all udder pale-face scalp. Want
Bourdon scalp, much as any.”
A slight exclamation from his companion, which could
scarcely be called a scream, caused the Indian to cease
speaking, when the two looked towards each other, and
passing gleams of ferocity, which had so often troubled
her, in the first few weeks of their acquaintance; in their
stead, an expression of subdued anxiety, and an earnestness
of inquiry that seemed to say how much the chief's
heart yearned to know more on that mighty subject towards
which his thoughts had lately been turned. The mutual
glance sufficed to renew the confidence our heroine was
very reluctant to relinquish, while it awakened afresh all
of Peter's parental concern in the welfare of the interesting
young woman at his side.
“But, this feeling has left you, Peter, and you no longer
wish Bourdon's scalp,” said Margery, hastily. “Now he
is my husband, he is your son.”
“Dat good, p'raps,” answered the Injin, “but dat not a
reason, nudder, Blossom. You right, too. Don't want
Bourdon scalp any longer. Dat true. But don't want any
scalp, any more. Heart grow soft—an't hard, now.”
“I wish I could let you understand, Peter, how much
I rejoice to hear this! I have never felt afraid of you, on
my own account, though I will own that I have sometimes
feared that the dreadful cruel stories which are told of
your enmity to my colour are not altogether without truth.
Now, you tell me you are the white man's friend, and that
you no longer wish to injure him. These are blessed
words, Peter; and humbly do I thank God, through his
blessed Son, that I have lived to hear them!”
“Dat Son make me feel so,” returned the Indian, earnestly.
“Yes, juss so. My heart was hard, till medicine-priest
tell dat tradition of Son of Great Spirit—how he die
for all tribes and nations, and ask his fader to do good to
dem dat take his life — dat won'erful tradition, Blossom!
Sound like song of wren in my ear—sweeter dan mocking-bird
when he do his bess. Yes, dat won'erful. He true,
too; for medicine-priest ask his Manitou to bless Injin,
juss as Injin lift tomahawk to take his life. I see'd and
heard dat, myself. All, won'erful, won'erful!”
“It was the Spirit of God that enabled poor Mr. Amen
to do that, Peter; and it is the Spirit of God that teaches
you to see and feel the beauty of such an act. Without
the aid of that Spirit, we are helpless as children; with it,
missionary was able to pray for his enemies with his dying
breath. God gave him strength to do so.”
Margery spoke as she felt, earnestly and with emphasis.
Her cheeks flushed with the strength of her feelings, and
Peter gazed on her with a species of reverence and wonder.
The beauty of this charming young woman was pleasing rather
than brilliant, depending much on expression for its power.
A heightened colour greatly increased it, and when, as in
this instance, the eyes reflected the tints of the cheeks, one
might have journeyed days in older regions, without finding
her equal in personal attractions. Much as he admired
her, however, Peter had now that on his mind which rendered
her beauty but a secondary object with him. His
soul had been touched by the unseen, but omnipresent,
power of the Holy Spirit, and his companion's language
and fervour contributed largely in keeping alive his interest
in what he felt.
“Nebber know Injin do dat—” said Peter, in a slow,
deliberative sort of way; “no, nebber know Injin do so.
Alway curse and hate his enemy, and moss when about to
lose his scalp. Den, feelin's hottest. Den, most want to
use tomahawk on his enemy. Den, most feel dat he hate
him. But, not so wid medicine-priest. Pray for Injin;
ask Great Spirit to do him all'e good he can; juss as Injin
was goin' to strike. Won'erful, won'erful—most won'erful
dat, in my eyes. Blossom, you know Peter. He your
fader. He take you, and make you his da'ghter. His
heart is soft to you, Blossom. But, he nuttin' but poor
Injin, dough a great chief. What he know? Pale-face
pappoose know more dan Injin chief. Dat come from
Great Spirit, too. He wanted it so, and it is so. Our
chiefs say dat Great Spirit love Injin. May be so. T'ink
he love ebbery body; but he can't love Injin as much as
he love pale-face, or he would n't let red-man know so little.
Do n't count wigwams, and towns, and canoes, and powder,
and lead, as proof of Great Spirit's love. Pale-face got
more of dese dan Injin. Dat I see and know, and dat I
feel. But it no matter. Injin used to be poor, and don't
care. When used to be poor, den used to it. When used
to be rich, den it hard not to be rich. All use. Injin
hunter—I'm great chief. You squaw—you young—you
know so much as squaw of chief. But you know most. I
feel ashamed to know so little. Want to know more.
Want to know most how 'e Son of Great Spirit die for all
tribe, and pray to his fader to bless 'em dat kill him. Dat
what Peter now want moss to know!”
“I wish I was better able to teach you, Peter, from the
bottom of my heart; but the little I do know you shall hear.
I would not deny you for a thousand worlds, for I believe
the Holy Spirit has touched your heart, and that you will
become a new man. Christians believe that all must become
new men, who are to live in the other world, in the
presence of God.”
“How can dat be? Peter soon be ole—how can ole
man grow young ag'in?”
“The meaning of this is that we must so change in feelings,
as no longer to be the same persons. The things that
we loved we must hate, and the things that we hated, or at
least neglected, we must love. When we feel this change
in our hearts, then may we hope that we love and reverence
the Great Spirit, and are living under his holy care.”
Peter listened with the attention of an obedient and respectful
child. If meekness, humility, a wish to learn the
truth, and a devout sentiment towards the Creator, are so
many indications of the “new birth,” then might this savage
be said to have been truly “born again.” Certainly
he was no longer the same man, in a moral point of view,
and of this he was himself entirely conscious. To him the
wonder was what had produced so great and so sudden a
change! But the reply he made to Margery will, of itself,
sufficiently express his views of his own case.
“An Injin like a child,” he said meekly, “nebber know.
Even pale-face squaw know more dan great chief. Nebber
feel as do now. Heart soft as young squaw's. Don't
hate anybody, no more. Wish well to all tribe, and colour,
and nation. Don't hate Bri'sh, don't hate Yankee; don't
hate Cherokee, even. Wish 'em all well. Don't know
dat heart is strong enough to ask Great Spirit to do 'em
all good, if dey want my scalp—p'raps dat too much for
somet'in', I hope, for me.”
“It is, indeed, Peter; and if'you will get down on your
knees, and humble your thoughts, and pray to God to
strengthen you in these good feelings, he will be sure to
do it, and make you, altogether, a new man.”
Peter looked wistfully at Margery, and then turned his
eyes towards the earth. After sitting in a thoughtful mood
for some time, he again regarded his companion, saying
with the simplicity of a child,
“Don't know how to do dat, Blossom. Hear medicine-priest
of pale-faces pray, some time, but poor Injin don't
know enough to speak to Great Spirit. You speak to Great
Spirit for him. He know your voice, Blossom, and listen
to what you say; but he won't hear Peter, who has so long
hated his enemy. P'raps he angry if he hear Peter speak.”
“In that you are mistaken, Peter. The ears of the
Lord are ever open to our prayers, when put up in sincerity,
as I feel certain that yours will now be. But, after
I have told you the meaning of what I am about to say,
I will pray with you and for you. It is best that you should
begin to do this, as soon as you can.”
Margery then slowly repeated to Peter the words of the
Lord's prayer. She gave him its history, and explained
the meaning of several of its words that might otherwise
have been unintelligible to him, notwithstanding his tolerable
proficiency in English—a proficiency that had greatly
increased in the last few weeks, in consequence of his constant
communications with those who spoke it habitually.
The word “trespasses” in particular, was somewhat difficult
for the Indian to comprehend, but Margery persevered
until she succeeded in giving her scholar tolerably accurate
ideas of the meaning of each term. Then she told
the Indian to kneel with her, and, for the first time in his
life, that man of the Openings and Prairies, lifted his voice
in prayer to the one God. It is true that Peter had often
before, mentally asked favours of his Manitou; but the requests
were altogether of a worldly character, and the
being addressed was invested with attributes very different
from those which he now understood to belong to the Lord
of Heaven and Earth. Nor was the spirit in asking, at all
that this Indian was already a full convert to Christianity,
which contains many doctrines of which he had not the
most distant idea; but his heart had undergone the first
step in the great change of conversion, and he was now as
humble as he had once been proud; as meek, as he had
formerly been fierce; and he felt that certain proof of an
incipient love of the Creator, in a similar feeling towards
all the works of his hands.
When Peter arose from his knees, after repeating the
prayer to Margery's slow leading, it was with the dependence
of a child on the teaching of its mother. Physically,
he was the man he ever had been. He was able to endure
fatigue, as sinewy in his frame, and as capable of fasting
and of sustaining fatigue, as in his most warlike days; but
morally the change was great indeed. Instead of the obstinate
confidence in himself and his traditions, which had
once so much distinguished this chief, there was substituted
an humble distrust of his own judgment, that rendered him
singularly indisposed to rely on his personal views, in any
matter of conscience, and he was truly become a child in all
that pertained to his religious belief. In good hands, and
under more advantageous circumstances, the moral improvement
of Peter would have been great; but, situated
as he was, it could not be said to amount to much more
than a very excellent commencement.
All this time both Peter and Margery had been too
intent on their feelings and employment, to take much
heed to the precautions necessary to their concealment.
The sun was setting ere they arose, and then it was that
Peter made the important discovery that they were observed
by two of the young men of the Pottawattamies;
scouts kept out by Bear's Meat to look for the fugitives.
The time was, when Peter would not have hesitated to
use his rifle on these unwelcome intruders; but the better
spirit that had come over him now led him to adopt a very
different course. Motioning to the young men, he ordered
them to retire, while he led Margery within the cover of
the bushes. Formerly, Peter would not have scrupled to
resort to deception, in order to throw these two young men
on a wrong scent, and get rid of them in that mode; but
they fall back at his beckoning, than he followed Margery
to the camp. The latter was giving her husband a hurried
account of what had just happened, as Peter joined them.
“Our camp is known!” exclaimed the bee-hunter the
instant he beheld the Indian.
“Juss so. Pottawattamie see squaw, and go and tell
his chief. Dat sartain,” answered Peter.
“What is there to be done? — Fight for our lives,
or fly?”
“Get in canoe quick as can. It take dem young men
half hour to reach place where chief be. In dat half hour
we muss go as far as we can. No good to stay here.
Injin come, in about one hour.”
Le Bourdon knew his position well enough to understand
this. Nevertheless there were several serious objections
to an immediate flight. Pigeonswing was absent,
and the bee-hunter did not like the notion of leaving him
behind, for various reasons. Then it was not yet dark;
and to descend the river by daylight appeared like advancing
into the jaws of the lion, designedly. Nor was
le Bourdon at his ease on the subject of Peter. His sudden
appearance, the insufficient and far from clear account of
Margery, and the extraordinary course advised, served to
renew ancient distrusts, and to render him reluctant to
move. But, of one thing there could be no doubt. Their
present position must be known, for Margery had seen the
two strange Indians with her own eyes, and a search might
soon be expected. Under all the circumstances, therefore,
our hero reluctantly complied with Margery's reiterated
solicitations, and they all got into the canoes.
“I do not half like this movement, Peter,” said le Bourdon,
as he shoved his own light craft down the brook, previously
to entering the river. “I hope it may turn out to
be better than it looks, and that you can keep us out of the
hands of our enemies. Remember, it is broad daylight,
and that red men are plenty two or three miles below us.”
“Yes, know dat. But, muss go. Injin too plenty here,
soon. Yes, muss go. Bourdon, why you can't ask bee,
now, what bess t'ing for you to do, eh? Good time, now,
ask bee to tell what he know.”
The bee-hunter made no reply, but his pretty wife raised
her hand, involuntarily, as if to implore the Indian to forbear.
Peter was a little bewildered; for, as yet, he did
not understand that a belief in necromancy was not exactly
compatible with the notions of the Christian's Providence.
In his ignorance, how much was he worse off than the
wisest of our race? Will any discreet man who has
ever paid close attention to the power of the somnambule,
deny that there is a mystery about such a person that exceeds
all our means of explanation? That there are degrees
in the extent of this power, that there are false, as
well as true somnambules, all who have attended to the
subject must allow; but, a deriding disbeliever in our own
person once, we have since seen that which no laws, known
to us, can explain, and which we are certain is not the
subject of collusion, as we must have been a party to the
fraud ourselves, were any such practised. To deny the
evidence of our senses is an act of greater weakness than
to believe that there are mysteries connected with our moral
and physical being, that human sagacity has not yet
been able to penetrate; and we repudiate the want of manliness
that shrinks from giving its testimony when once
convinced, through an apprehension of being derided, as
weaker than those who withhold their belief. We know
that our own thoughts have been explained and rendered,
by a somnambule, under circumstances that will not admit
of any information by means known to us by other principles;
and whatever others may think on the subject, we are
perfectly conscious that no collusion did or could exist.
Why, then, are we to despise the poor Indian because he
still fancied le Bourdon could hold communication with his
bees? We happen to be better informed, and there may
be beings who are aware of the as yet hidden laws of animal
magnetism—hidden as respects ourselves, though
known to them—and who fully comprehend various mistakes
and misapprehensions connected with our impressions
on this subject, that escape our means of detection. It is
not surprising, therefore, that Peter, in his emergency,
turned to those bees, in the hope that they might prove of
assistance, or that Margery silently rebuked him for the
weakness, in the manner mentioned.
Although it was still light, the sun was near setting
when the canoes glided into the river. Fortunately for the
fugitives the banks were densely wooded, and the stream
of great width, a little lake in fact, and there was not much
danger of their being seen until they got near the mouth;
nor then, even, should they once get within the cover of
the wild rice, and of the rushes. There was no retreat,
however; and after paddling some distance, in order to get
beyond the observation of any scout who might approach
the place where they had last been seen, the canoes were
brought close together, and suffered to float before a smart
breeze, so as not to reach the mouth of the stream before
the night closed around them. Everything appeared so
tranquil, the solitude was so profound, and their progress
so smooth and uninterrupted, that a certain amount of confidence
revived in the breasts of all, and even the bee-hunter
had hopes of eventual escape.
A conversation now occurred, in which Peter was questioned
concerning the manner in which he had been occupied
during his absence; an absence that had given le
Bourdon so much concern. Had the chief been perfectly
explicit, he would have confessed that fully one-half of his
waking thoughts had been occupied in thinking of the
death of the Son of God, of the missionary's prayer for his
enemies, and of the sublime morality connected with such
a religion. It is true Peter did not, could not, indeed,
enter very profoundly into the consideration of these subjects;
nor were his notions either very clear, or orthodox;
but they were sincere, and the feelings to which they gave
birth were devout. Peter did not touch on these circumstances,
however, confining his explanations to the purely
material part of his proceedings. He had remained with
Bear's Meat, Crowsfeather, and the other leading chiefs,
in order to be at the fountain-head of information, and to
interpose his influence should the pale-faces unhappily fall
into the hands of those who were so industriously looking
for them. Nothing had occurred to call his authority out,
but a strange uncertainty seemed to reign among the warriors,
concerning the manner in which their intended victims
eluded their endeavours to overtake them. No trail
had been discovered, scout after scout coming in to report
This turned the attention of the Indians still more keenly
on the river's mouth, it being certain that the canoes could
not have passed out into the lake previously to the arrival
of the two or three first parties of their young men, who
had been sent so early to watch that particular outlet.
Peter informed le Bourdon that his câche had been discovered,
opened, and rifled of its stores. This was a severe
loss to our hero, and one that would have been keenly
felt at any other time; but, just then, he had interests so
much more important to protect, that he thought and said
little about this mishap. The circumstance which gave
him the most concern was this. Peter stated that Bear's
Meat had directed about a dozen of his young men to
keep watch, day and night, in canoes, near the mouth of
the river, lying in wait among the wild rice, like so many
snakes in the grass.
The party was so much interested in this conversation
that, almost insensibly to themselves, they had dropped
down to the beginning of the rushes and rice, and had got
rather dangerously near to the critical point of their passage.
As it was still day-light, Peter now proposed pushing
the canoes in among the plants, and there remaining until
it might be safer to move. This was done, accordingly, and
in a minute or two all three of the little barks were concealed
within the cover.
The question now was whether the fugitives had been
observed, but suffered to advance, as every foot they descended
the stream was taking them nearer to their foes.
Peter did not conceal his apprehension on this point, since
he deemed it improbable that any reach near the mouth of
the Kalamazoo was without its look-outs, at a moment so
interesting. Such was, indeed, the fact, as was afterwards
ascertained; but the young men who had seen Peter and
Margery, had given the alarm, passing the word where the
fugitives were to be found, and the sentinels along this portion
of the stream had deserted their stations, in order to
be in at the capture. By such delicate and unforeseen
means does Providence often protect those who are the
subjects of its especial care, baffling the calculations of
art, by its own quiet control of events.
The bee-hunter had a feverish desire to be moving.
After remaining in the cover about half an hour, he proposed
that they should get the canoes into one of the open
passages, of which there were many among the plants, and
proceed. Peter had more of the patience of an Indian,
and deemed the hour too early. But le Bourdon was not
yet entirely free from distrust of his companion, and telling
Gershom to follow, he began paddling down one of the
passages mentioned. This decisive step compelled the rest
to follow, or to separate from their companions. They
chose to do the first.
Had le Bourdon possessed more self-command, and remained
stationary a little longer, he would, in all probability,
have escaped altogether from a very serious danger
that he was now compelled to run. Although there were
many of the open places among the plants, they did not
always communicate with each other, and it became necessary
to force the canoes through little thickets, in order to
get out of one into another, keeping the general direction
of descending the river. It was while effecting the first
of these changes, that the agitation of the tops of the
plants caught the eye of a look-out on the shore. By signals,
understood among themselves, this man communicated
his discovery to a canoe that was acting as one of the
guard-boats, thus giving a general alarm along the whole
line of sentinels, as well as to the chiefs down at the hut,
or at the mouth of the river. The fierce delight with
which this news was received, after so long a delay, became
ungovernable, and presently yells and cries filled the air,
proceeding from both sides of the stream, as well as from
the river itself.
There was not a white person in those canoes who did
not conceive that their party was lost, when this clamour
was heard. With Peter it was different. Instead of admitting
of alarm, he turned all his faculties to use. While
le Bourdon himself was nearly in despair, Peter was listening
with his nice ears, to catch the points on the river
whence the yells arose. For the banks he cared nothing.
The danger was from the canoes. By the keenness of his
faculties, the chief ascertained that there were four canoes
out, and that they would have to run the gauntlet between
became certain that these four canoes were in the rice, two
on each side of the river, and there they would probably
remain, in expectation that the fugitives would be most
likely to come down in the cover.
The decision of Peter was made in a moment. It was
now quite dark, and those who were in canoes within the
rice could not well see the middle of the stream, even by
daylight. He determined, therefore, to take the very centre
of the river, giving his directions to that effect, with precision
and clearness. The females he ordered to lie down,
each in her own canoe, while their husbands alone were to
remain visible. Peter hoped that, in the darkness, le Bourdon
and Gershom might pass for Indians, on the look-out,
and under his own immediate command.
One very important fact was ascertained by le Bourdon,
as soon as these arrangements were explained and completed.
The wind on the lake was blowing from the south,
and of course was favourable to those who desired to proceed
in the opposite direction. This he communicated to
Margery in a low tone, endeavouring to encourage her by
all the means in his power. In return, the young wife muttered
a few encouraging words to her husband. Every
measure was understood between the parties. In the event
of a discovery, the canoes were to bury themselves in the
rice, taking different directions, each man acting for himself.
A place of rendezvous was appointed outside, at a
head-land known to Gershom and le Bourdon, and signals
were agreed on, by which the latest arrival might know
that all was safe, there. These points were settled as the
canoes floated slowly down the stream.
Peter took and kept the lead. The night was star-lit and
clear, but there was no moon. On the water, this made
but little difference, objects not being visible at any material
distance. The chief governed the speed, which was
moderate, but regular. At the rate he was now going, it
would require about an hour to carry the canoes into the
lake. But nearly all of that hour must pass in the midst
of enemies!
Half of the period just mentioned elapsed, positively without
an alarm of any sort. By this time, the party was
secreted the canoes in the former adventure at the mouth
of the river. On the shores, however, a very different
scene now offered. Then the fire burned brightly in the
hut, and the savages could be seen by its light. Now, all
was not only dark, but still as death. There was no longer
any cry, sound, alarm, or foot-fall, audible. The very air
seemed charged with uncertainty, and its offspring apprehension.
As they approached nearer and nearer to what was conceived
to be the most critical point in the passage, the canoes
got closer together; so close, indeed, that le Bourdon
and Gershom might communicate in very guarded tones.
The utmost care was taken to avoid making any noise;
since a light and careless blow from a paddle, on the side
of a canoe, would be almost certain, now, to betray them.
Margery and Dorothy could no longer control their feelings,
and each rose in her seat, raising her body so as to
bring her head above the gunwale of the canoe, if a bark-canoe
can be said to have a gunwale, at all. They even
whispered to each other, endeavouring to glean encouragement
by sympathy. At this instant, occurred the crisis in
their attempt to escape.
| CHAPTER XIII. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter | |