Edith's eyes had been cast down, and so full of bitter tears that she had seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now she looked up, and in an instant her presence of mind returned. It is true she did not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not reach the boat; but it was nearing the canoe fast, and in a moment after the question was repeated in a more peremptory and a more distinct tone.
"Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, who seemed to comprehend in some degree the meaning of the call. "Say we are going to join our Canadian father;" and he glared fiercely as he spoke.
"We are English!" exclaimed Edith, in French, exerting her utmost power of voice. "We are English and Iroquois, going I know not whither!"
Instantly, at a signal from the batteaux, the light canoes dashed out with extraordinary rapidity, and before any effectual effort could be made to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells of the Hurons announced that they recognized at length a band of ancient enemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his tomahawk from his belt; but the brother of the Snake spoke some words to him in a low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work the paddles, and every face assumed the quiet stillness of perfect indifference. The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, so that one danger seemed only to be escaped to encounter a still greater. Their fierce faces and dark, half-naked forms, tattooed and painted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and the knife were brandished, as if for immediate action. But one of the large boats bore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe in which Edith and her companion were. A handsomely dressed, middle-aged man stood up in the stern, as it came near, and turning to an Indian who seemed a chief, by his side, said to him in French: "Keep your people quiet, Great Elk!"
A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to the others in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at all understand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, and the light skiffs lay quiet upon the water, or only moved slightly with the momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then raising his hat and plume, with an air of much grace, the French officer addressed Edith, saying: "Will you have the goodness to explain to me, mademoiselle, who and what you are, and how you came to be in the position in which I find you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain a lady, but you have too many men with you to suffer your canoe to pass."
"I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I have been attacked and captured with the friend who was escorting me from my father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants were murdered--at least one of them, I am sure, was. The Indians who are with me are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake, toward Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to death also, if you do not save me from their hands."
"But this is a strange story, mademoiselle," said the officer. "The Iroquois and your countrymen are in alliance."
"I cannot account for it," said Edith. "They are certainly Iroquois, for they speak no other language, except a few words of English. You must ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if you have any on board who can speak their tongue."
The officer turned once more to his Indian companion and addressed some words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and then drawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed into the canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely. "They are Iroquois," he said, at length. "Let us scalp them."
This proposal the officer did not think fit to comply with, at least for the time, and he replied, with a laugh: "Wait a little, my friend. The Great Elk shall have scalping enough soon. We will take them ashore with us, at all events, and perhaps may learn more. Then, if they are really enemies, you may exercise your skill upon them to your heart's content. The lady and her English companion, however, I claim as my prisoners. Permit me, mademoiselle, to assist you into the boat. You will be safer here, and may trust to the honor and courtesy of a French gentleman."