Thus, more than an hour was passed after they reached the lake-shore before they departed; and their taking their course so boldly across the bows of the French boats was more a matter of necessity than choice, although they little doubted a good reception from the inveterate enemies of England. The moment, however, that the canoe had shot out into the water, a tall, dark woman emerged from the bushes of the low point under which the skiff had lain, and began wringing her hands with every appearance of grief and anxiety.
"Oh, what will poor massa do?" she cried, in a piteous voice; "what will poor massa do? Him son killed: him daughter stolen, and Chando tomahawked. Ah, me! ah, me! what will we all do?"
Her imprudent burst of grief had nearly proved destructive to poor Sister Bab. The old Huron had turned him quietly towards a small birch-bark cabin in the forest hard by, and would never have remarked the poor negress if she had confined the expression of her cares to mere gesture; but her moans and exclamations caught the quick ear of the savage, and he turned and saw her plainly gazing after the canoe.
With no other provocation than a taste for blood, he stole gently through the trees with the soft, gliding, noiseless motion peculiar to his race; and making a circuit so as to conceal his advance, came behind the poor creature just as she beheld the canoe which bore away her young mistress, stopped and surrounded by the little flotilla of the French.
Another moment would have been fatal to her (for the Indian was within three yards), when a large rattlesnake suddenly raised itself in his path, and made him recoil a step. Whether it was the small, but never-to-be-forgotten, sound of the reptile's warning, or some noise made by the Huron in suddenly drawing back, the poor negress turned her head, and saw her danger.
With a wild scream, she darted away towards the lake. The savage sprang after with a yell; and, though old, he retained much of the Indian lightness of foot. Onward towards the shore he drove her, meditating each moment to throw his hatchet, if she turned to the right or left.
But Sister Bab was possessed of qualities which would not have disgraced any of his own tribe; and, even while running at her utmost speed, she contrived continually to deprive him of his aim. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a heap of stone, that did not afford her a momentary shelter; and of every inequality of the ground she took advantage. Now she whirled sharply round the little shoulder of the hill; now, as the tomahawk was just balanced to be thrown with more fatal certainty, she sprang down a bank which almost made the Indian pause. Then she plunged head-foremost like a snake through the thick brushwood, and again appeared in a different spot from that where he had expected to see her.
Still, however, he was driving her towards the lake, at a spot where the shores were open, and where he felt certain of overtaking her. Nevertheless, on she went to the very verge of the lake, gazed to the right and left, and, seeing, with apparent consternation, that the banks rounded themselves on both sides, forming a little bay, near the centre of which she stood, she paused for a single instant, as if in despair. The Huron sprang after with a wild whoop, grasping the tomahawk firmly to strike the fatal blow.
But Sister Bab was not yet in his power; and, with a bold leap, she sprang from the ledge into the water. Her whole form instantly disappeared; and, for at least a minute, her savage pursuer stood gazing at the lake in surprise and disappointment, when, suddenly he saw a black object appear at the distance of twenty or thirty yards, and as suddenly sink again. A few moments after, it rose once more, still further out; and then the brave woman was seen striking easily away towards the south.
Rendered only more eager by the chase, and more fierce by disappointment, the Huron ran swiftly along the shore, thinking that he could easily tire her out or cut her off; but, in sunny waters, in far distant lands, she had sported with the waves, in infancy; and, taking the chord of the bow where he was compelled to take the arc, she gained from distance what she lost in speed. So calm was she, so cool, that, turning her eyes from her pursuer, she gazed over the water in the direction where she had seen her beloved young mistress carried, and had the satisfaction of beholding the canoe in which she was towed along by one of the French boats. Why she rejoiced, she hardly knew, for her notions on such matters were not very definite; but anything seemed better than to remain in the hands of the murderers of poor Chando.