"There will be only the river left," said some one.
The crowd grew more dense. Pierre felt that he could hardly get to the gate. Then men with axes and hatchets hewed down the palisades, and, he being near, made a tremendous effort, and pushed his way outside. There was still crowd enough, but they soon came to a freer space, and he laid his burthen down, standing over her that no one might tread on her.
"O Jeanne, are you safe? Thank heaven!"
Jeanne caught his hand and pressed it in both of hers.
"If we could get to Wenonah!" she said.
He picked up his burthen again, but it was very limp.
"Open the blanket a little. I was afraid to have her see the flames. Yes, let us go on," said Jeanne, courageously.
Men and women were wringing their hands; children were screaming. The flames crackled and roared, but out here the way was a little clearer. They forced a path and were soon beyond the worst heat and smoke.
Wenonah's lodge was deserted. Pierre laid the poor body down, and Jeanne bent over and kissed the strangely passive face.
"Oh, she is dead! My poor, dear Pani!"