“Who are they? Did Omene hear?”
“It is reported that the Governor-chief is sending his squaw back to the great settlement,” he answered.
Mahaska sprung to her feet with the bound of a lioness. She had learned the fact of De Laguy having become Governor of Quebec: the thought that Adèle might again be thrown in her power fairly dizzied her with its promise of torture to her hated foe and his despised wife. Having questioned the man minutely, she dismissed him and sat down to arrange in her mind the project which had so suddenly been called into life.
Toward sunset she selected a number of her body-guard and set out in the direction of the river. One of the savages was sent in advance, to await the coming of the boats and learn the exact order in which they were journeying. It so chanced that the boat which carried the Governor’s wife had fallen behind. Adèle, having placed the nurse and child in another canoe, sat conversing with a female acquaintance who was accompanying her on her return to Quebec. It was growing almost twilight; they had reached a point where the river took a variety of short curves, and the bank was so thickly wooded that the boats often lost sight of each other. Still, the officer who had command of the expedition had given no orders for the canoes to be kept more closely together, as there was scarcely a supposition of danger in the whole journey.
The two ladies were conversing so eagerly that they did not observe that the other boats had passed out of sight. But the rower seeing this, was bending forward to make new exertions, and they were just passing a dark point of the forest, when he was struck violently upon the head, lost his balance, and fell backward into the water.
The two women sprung up with a cry of dismay; at the same instant, several Indians burst out of the thicket and plunged into the water. The boat was seized and dragged to the shore, and Madame De Lenneville, as she fell insensible in the canoe, heard one last shriek from the hapless Adèle, and saw her borne off in the arms of savages.
That appalling cry brought back the other boats; they saw the canoe drifting down the current with the lady’s companion lying senseless, but neither the oarsman nor the Governor’s wife were to be seen.
It was a long time before Madame De Lenneville could be restored to consciousness, and even then, her senses were so confused by the shock, that she could give no clear account of the occurrence.
Further down the river they found the body of the oarsman, who had been so stunned by the blow that he could make no effort, and was swept passively down the stream.
To Madame De Lenneville’s excited imagination, the number of the savages appeared immense, and the officers decided that nothing could be done but to push on to Quebec for assistance, as any attempt to follow the Indians with their little party would only result in a general massacre.