Butler struggled and attempted to draw back; he was speedily overpowered by numbers; his hands tied, and himself bound upon a horse. After a brief consultation, they resigned the pursuit of Sir John, and turned to retrace their steps, with the prisoner in their midst.
When the fugitives drew rein, to breathe their horses, they perceived for the first time that Walter Butler was missing.
“They have caught him!” exclaimed Sir John.
“Fool!” said Brant, contemptuously. “He deserves hanging, but I am sorry it happened; Queen Esther likes him, and I would rather encounter a troop of fiends than her tongue, when she learns what has happened.”
“But we are not to blame—we were powerless to assist him, and——”
“As if that would change her mind! No, no; I can promise you a hot welcome. But it is not for her interest to risk a serious quarrel with us, and her majesty looks to that, I can tell you.”
They rode on for another hour in security, and on reaching a break in the forest, the camp-fires of the Indians became visible in the valley below.
“Here we are,” said Brant; “now for Queen Esther.”
They rode into the camp, and Brant was received by the savages with demonstrations of joy.
“Where is the queen?” he asked, in the Shawnee dialect.