Snatching up his gun, he set off at full speed. He had gone but a short distance, when he stopped and sharply caught his breath. A cloaked figure was hurrying toward him. It was the woman he sought.
“Amy, it’s you—thank God!” he ejaculated fervently, as she reached his side. “I’ve been searching for you. I discovered the drifting canoe and, for a moment, thought you were drowned. Where have you been?”
She was greatly excited. Abject terror was in her voice, as she whispered in reply:
“I have been hiding. I heard you calling me, but didn’t dare to answer. Just as I stepped from the canoe, a number of Indians and a white man came down the bank toward me. I quickly cast the boat adrift and hid myself among some brush. There I lay quaking with fear, for—oh, God! the white man was George Hilliard. They stood near me and talked of my escape. They were searching for me. I could hear his hateful voice—could hear every word he said. I almost smothered my baby; I was so afraid it would cry and betray my presence. At last they left and went farther up the stream. Then I heard you calling me, but was afraid to answer. Oh, Ross—Ross! Do save me from that man! If you find you cannot, kill me and my baby—in God’s name, do!”
“There—there!” he said soothingly. “I’ll save you—I’ll get you to the fort. Let me support you. You can hardly stand. Come.”
They scrambled up the bank and made a narrow detour to the left, to avoid the party she had seen. A half hour later, Douglas had skillfully piloted his companion through the savages encircling the fort, and was thundering at one of the gates for admission.
CHAPTER XVIII.
On gaining entrance to the fort, Ross placed Amy and her child in care of some refugees, who occupied a large tent at the eastern end of the inclosure, immediately behind the grand traverse, and went to hunt his comrades. He found them at a camp-fire, around which a number of lolling soldiers were talking and smoking.