CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VI.
“Many are pains of life, I need not stay to count them; there is no one but hath felt some of them, though unequally they fall.”—Ugo Bassi’s Sermon.
Scarcely ten minutes had passed before the group of women and children stood by a little opening which Howe had made in the palisade, through which they were to escape into the forest. Howe stepped out first. Why should the leaves rustle so? He fancied he heard a noise near. An arrow might pierce him in a second, or one of those frightful yells might announce their discovery.
But no arrow came, and one by one the little procession filed out behind him into the dark forest. It was by no means easy work to keep on. The underbrush crackled and scratched the children’s hands and feet until they cried and had to be hushed. Only the baby Elizabeth would not be silenced, though Mrs. Dare did all she could to soothe her.
“They will certainly hear her and find us. We’ll be all scalped if you carry her any farther,” said one of the women.