One of the figures came nearer. “Ma’m’selle!” it said in a whisper.
The familiar word was the sweetest music. She stretched out her hand.
“I never saw anything so terrible. And you—lived? Others have gone. Three are dead. One is drowned, and Black Feather—” Valbonais’s voice trembled.
“Well!” with a long breath. Did she hope for his death?
“He ordered the men to look after the boats. They had been drawn up, but the ground was sloping, the rain a torrent, the blackness something fearful save when the blinding blaze of light came. He was there ordering, cursing, threatening. Then a tree crashed down and pinned him to the earth. He is badly hurt about the legs, but has voice enough left in him for four.”
Wawataysee shuddered.
“Ma’m’selle!” in a breathless manner.
“Yes?” with eager inquiry.
“I am going to escape. There never can be a more favorable moment.”
“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried in a piercing tone.