Adèle let her hands drop in her lap. She had exhausted every appeal, every argument, but the woman only remained the more merciless and immovable.
“I can say no more,” she sobbed, brokenly; “kill me then. But at least show me one mercy—end my sufferings at once.”
Mahaska caught her wrist, fairly hissing in her face:
“You shall die by inches! Would that you had a hundred lives! I have the heart to crush each with unheard of torture! There is no hope—no release! You shall be my slave. There is no degradation I will not heap upon you—no outrage you shall not endure! Death shall be long in coming; every torture, every groan shall be reported to your false husband, and crush him with its agony.”
She thrust the wretched creature wildly from her and went away without another word, leaving Adèle crouched upon the ground, so overcome by horror that she could not even comfort her misery by a prayer. She sat upon the earth motionless, until one of the savages approached and made signs that she was to enter the tent. She comprehended that Mahaska did not intend to lose sight of her even for an instant; there was no possibility of release from the panther’s lair.
She crept into the tent and lay down upon the greensward that covered the earth which it shadowed like a carpet, but sleep, worn out as she was, would not come to her relief.
There she lay, listening to every sound, while the moments appeared like hours, and it seemed to the hapless creature that death in its most terrible form would not be so hard to bear as the agony of that suspense. She could only lie there in passive immobility, trying to murmur broken prayers, at times roused into keener torture by the thought of her husband and child, seeming to hear their voices call her, springing up on the furs with a wild belief that it was real, then sinking back overwhelmed with fresh agony by the consciousness of her own delirious fancies.
So the night dragged on, but what time passed, whether moments or hours, the girl could not tell.
When the camp grew quiet, Gi-en-gwa-tah saw Mahaska start softly away toward the forest. Once he might have thought that she had gone to consult her spirits, but the events of the past few days had blotted out his superstitious belief; he determined to follow her.
Mahaska walked on under the forest-boughs until she reached a little natural clearing, and paused. The moonlight made the place clear as day. He saw her glance narrowly about, as if she were not certain of its being the place which she sought. Suddenly her eye caught some white fragment fluttering on a blasted oak, and the chief saw by her face that it was a signal which she had expected. She took her whistle from her bosom and sounded a low call. This was answered from a neighboring thicket, and soon Gi-en-gwa-tah saw a man, gliding from the underbrush, approach her. The watchful and now excited chief crept slowly toward the log where Mahaska had seated herself. He paused within sound of their voices, concealed perfectly by a clump of bushes. He could see the man’s face now, and recognized the half-breed, Rene, whom he had seen in Quebec.