When we had gone a hundred yards from the camp he whipped out his knife, gave one quick glance to the west, and cut through my bonds.
"Run for it, lad!" he cried. "Some of the Chippewa hunters have met the others—we are lost unless we break away to the ridge!"
I did not pause to question him, but ran. For a moment I thought we would be safe enough, but the Chippewas must have been watching that party to the west also, for we had barely started when from the camp behind went up a shrill yell of rage, and I heard Gib's shout.
I knew without his telling me that he had tried for one of those audacious coups which had made his name famous, even as Gib had said. The Crees had not arrived; the party to the west was the party of the Chippewas who had been left to guard the retreat, and who for some reason had come on to join Gib. Had the hunters from the camp not met them, in plain sight of all, we had got clean away.
As it was, I was handicapped by having no snowshoes, but even so I could outrun the Chippewas, as I knew well. Then something whistled over my shoulder, and a gunshot rang out behind us, and another. Those Chippewas were well armed, doubtless from the post, and in their rage at being tricked so easily they spared no powder.
I dared not try to jump from side to side, nor could Radisson by reason of his snowshoes, so we plunged straight for the ridge. The bullets whistled past us and over, and I had just begun to rejoice that we had escaped, when I saw Radisson stagger heavily. Then came wild fear to me, and I reached his side and caught his arm in mine.
"'Tis naught, Davie," he muttered as he ran on, and shook me off. "We have distanced them—courage! Where is The Keeper?"
Before answering I glanced behind. The Chippewas had spread out, but were making no further effort to catch us. Another spurt of smoke darted out, and another bullet sang past faintly. A hundred yards farther on and we would be out of range, so I waited until we had gained it, with the ridge near ahead.
"The Keeper is dead," I answered him bluntly enough. "They shot him to death with arrows at midday."
Radisson stopped short and turned a stricken face to me. Terrible was that face, unbelieving my tidings, yet with fear and horror stamped upon it. The old man staggered as he stood, swaying back and forth, but his eagle-eyes were never brighter and keener.