CHAPTER X.
A GLAD MEETING SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED.
When Katie stepped out of the dug-out on the main-land, she climbed upon the huge log, and looked around. All about her was darkness and grim silence. Close by, a tall sycamore, erect and lofty, raised its head above the forest and waved in the damp night air. Underbrush grew thick and matted everywhere about her; the ground was beset with miry, treacherous bogs, which threatened death to her footsteps; she knew not where she was, nor the way to leave the island; she was in a quandary.
She knew not what to do—where to go, but, inspired with terror at the thought of again enduring the horrors of captivity, she followed the log down to its end and stepped off. Then wandering vaguely, she started away into the silent, black forest, terrified at its silence and grimness, at the danger behind, and at danger before—for there was danger.
Here, in this forest, lurked the dangerous catamount, and the venomous snake; here trod the bear, nocturnally rambling; the gray, ferocious and gaunt wolf stole through the shadowy aisles; and last, but not least, the red-man was not yet exterminated. Treacherous bogs and deadly pools, too, dotted the spongy ground—terrible dangers in themselves.
She had not gone far when on stepping, she felt her foot sink into a soft bog. Hastily withdrawing it ere it became too late, she turned away only to encounter the same danger. Frightened and faint almost to exhaustion with hunger, and alarmed at the rising cries of beasts which she heard, she sat vacantly down, leaning against a tree. Overtasked nature refused to yield to artificial laws, and she fell asleep.
When she awoke it was broad daylight, and the sun was high in the zenith—it was high noon. Faint with hunger, she yet felt considerably refreshed, and rising, she looked about her. She had not tasted food for thirty-six hours—she must have some; she could not live, scarcely move without it; and she needed strength to fly.
While she was cogitating and looking about, she heard a rustle in an adjoining thicket—the fall of a foot. She slipped behind the tree quickly. What could it be? Was it an enemy, searching for her, or was it a lurking Indian? Whichever it was, she felt alarmed, and her heart throbbed.
Again the sound came—a light footfall. It was nearer—some one was coming—she must escape. Leaving the tree, she softly glided away, keeping the tree between her and the sound. She might have escaped had she been versed in wood-craft, but, being unskilled and timorous she trod upon a dry twig. It snapped, loudly. She heard a sudden, low exclamation. Believing she was discovered, she made no further attempt at concealment, but fled.
She heard the footsteps behind quicken, then settle into a steady run. She strained her pace. A dense coppice lay near. If she could only reach it! She would try, anyhow, and she flew toward it. Hitherto a dense thicket had intervened between her and her pursuer, but now she heard him burst out in full sight. She was almost to the coppice—she would soon be there. Accelerating her speed, she was rapidly nearing it when she heard a voice behind her say: