“There’s a canoe comin’ down stream!”
We said nothing; and Nat looking meaningly in the water.
“Skin me, if there ain’t two reds and a squaw in it,” added Biddon, without changing his position, or removing his gaze.
I could not restrain the singular agitation that came over me at this announcement. Fearing to betray myself, I cautiously arose beside Biddon.
“Let me take a look,” I whispered.
“Be keerful you ain’t seen,” he whispered, in turn, as he stepped back.
As I looked, I saw, not more than two hundred yards distant the canoe approaching, heading directly towards us. For this reason, I could only see the foremost Indian, though I was positive another, together with the white captive, were in it. I gazed but a moment and then looked inquiringly at the trapper. He made no reply, but again peered forth.
“That ain’t a squaw; it’s a white gal,” said he, looking round upon us with an astounded look.
“Shall we rescue her?” I asked.
“Ef she wants us to, in course.”