“The Frenchman, Jacques Volnier. He is here with another. They seek news of importance from the English. We have sworn to stand by them, and we must obey,” added Falling Waters.
A long and angry discussion arose, but in the end Falling Waters carried his point, and Henry was taken to a rendezvous which the Canadian Indians had once occupied on the south shore of Lake Ontario.
The fight had by this time terminated, and the Frenchmen and the Indians had come out on the lake in a flat-bottomed boat. With his arms bound behind him, Henry, who was just recovering from the blow he had received, was made to march down to the boat. Here he found Silvers also a prisoner, and suffering from several arrow wounds.
“Hullo, are you a prisoner?” cried the leader of the expedition, when one of the Frenchmen arose and clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Ze prisonair must not talk now,” he said, in broken English. “Ze prisonair can talk when we haf left ze shore.”
“All right,” muttered Silvers, and glad that the Frenchmen had compelled the Indians to spare his life, he relapsed into silence.
As for poor Henry, his head was in a whirl and ached as if ready to split open. More than this, he felt stiff and sore all over, and he sat in the bow of the boat only with the greatest of difficulty.
As Shamer had told Dave, the boat contained six Indians, besides the two Frenchmen and the prisoners, so it was heavily loaded. The red men were at the oars, and they rowed with a steadiness that showed they had had practice in this art as well as with a paddle. The boat shot forward with good speed, and soon the south shore of the lake became a dim, uncertain line in the distance.
“Now ze prisonairs can tell us who za air,” said one of the Frenchmen, evidently the leader of the party.
“I am not ashamed of that,” answered Silvers. “My name is Louis Silvers.”