"The woman has been taken away," my stiff, strange voice explained.
"So far they have not harmed her."
"How do you know?"
"There are no marks of struggle. Simon resisted, and they killed him.
The other men surrendered. The Indians wanted prisoners, not scalps."
"Was it Pemaou and his Hurons?"
"Yes."
"You are sure?"
"He left a broken spear in my lodge. There was bad blood between us once, and I broke the spear in two and tossed the pieces at him, telling him to keep them,—to keep them, for we should meet again. I humbled him. Now it is his jest. He is a capable Indian. He seems to have outwitted even you, monsieur."
Because I spoke as one dead he thought I needed leading. He took me by the arm and would have guided me gently to the canoe.
"Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, you must rouse yourself. We must start in pursuit."
I shook him off. "Sit here where it is dry. You need your strength. We have hours to get through here before we leave, and little to do to help us through the time. We must wait here for Pierre."