The strong sun was now beginning to tell upon Henry, and he said no more. He wanted to keep his senses, but presently all seemed to fade from him. He felt himself pitch into Silvers’ arms, and then he knew no more for the time being.
“Poor lad,” murmured Silvers.
“What is ze mattair?” demanded Jacques Volnier.
“He has fainted. Won’t you untie me so that I can do something for him?”
“Oui! oui!” was the answer, and in a moment more Silvers was free. He untied Henry and bathed his forehead, and presently the young soldier opened his eyes. But it was not until long after sundown that Henry felt anything like himself again, and even then he was almost too weak to stand.
The two prisoners wondered where they were being taken, but could get nothing from either the Frenchmen or the Indians. The rowboat was headed to the northeast, and this showed that the general direction was for the mouth of the St. Lawrence. On and on swept the craft, through the dismal night and still on when the morning came.
“They are going quite a distance,” said Henry, after he had swallowed a piece of bread that had been given to him. “Can it be that they mean to move right down the river?”
“It is possible,” answered Silvers. “Montreal, you know, is not so very far away.”
At last the boat turned to the eastward, and that evening a landing was made near what is to-day Wolfe Island. There had been a small settlement here, but this was abandoned, the inhabitants having withdrawn to a fort on the mainland.
At the island the Indians left the party and some other Frenchmen appeared, one owning a fair-sized sloop, which boasted a small swivel gun. The prisoners were made to board the sloop, and now their hands were chained behind them. The sloop had a small cuddy and into this they were forced, the door being closed and locked after them.