“Mother, help me pull off my robe; I can swim.”
“Father of heaven! No; the distance is beyond your strength—the water is very deep!” exclaimed the first voice, in alarm.
“Mother, he shall not kill that angel girl—he shall not have the other. I am very strong; I can swim to that island; see, now the lights stream upon the water; it does not look so dangerous. Let me try!”
“Is there no other way?” exclaimed the answering voice. “I cannot consent to this risk; it may be death to you, my child!”
But while the words were on her mother’s lips Tahmeroo flung off her robe, and with a wild leap, plunged far out into the waves, calling back:
“Stay there—do not move—I will come back with a canoe.”
“My child—oh, Father of mercies! she is lost!”
“Not so, madam; she is light and self-possessed—have no fear,” said Murray stepping out from the shadow in which he had stood.
Before Catharine could turn, or had distinctly heard his voice, a man rushed by her, with the bound of a wild animal, and plunged into the river. Catharine caught one glimpse at the wild face, but before she could catch her breath he was struggling with the current and his pursuers stood upon the bank. The men were both white, though the ferocity of fifty savages broke from the eyes which glared down upon the water, where that old friend was struggling.
“Come back, Lieutenant Shoemaker—come back!” cried the man upon the bank; “the current is too swift—you’ll be lost; come on shore and I’ll protect you.”