Once in this wooded reach, Peter tossed an arm, and assumed an air of greater security. He felt infinitely relieved, and knew that they were safe, for a time, unless some wanderer should have taken to the swamp—a most improbable thing of itself. When high enough, he led the way across the stream, and entering below, he soon had all the canoes in their place of concealment.
“Dis good place,” observed the great chief, as soon as all were fast; “bess take care, dough. Bess not make track too much on land; Injin got sharp eye, and see ebbery t'ing. Now, I go and talk wid chief. Come back by-'em-by. You stay here. Good-bye.”
“Stop, Peter—one word before we part. If you see Parson Amen, or the corporal, it might be well to tell THEM where we are to be found. They would be glad to know.”
Peter looked grave; even sad. He did not answer for fully a minute. When he did, it was in a low, suppressed voice, such as one is apt to use when there is a weight felt on his mind.
“Nebber know any t'ing ag'in,” returned the chief. “Both dem pale-face dead.”
“Dead!” echoed all within hearing.
“Juss so; Injin kill him. Mean to kill you, too—dat why I run away. Saw medicine-priest die. What you t'ink, Blossom?—What you t'ink, Bourdon?—Dat man die asking Great Spirit to do good to Injin!”
“I can believe it, Peter, for he was a good man, and such are our Christian laws, though few of us obey them. I can easily believe that Parson Amen was an exception, however.”
“Yes, Peter, such are our Christian laws,” put in Margery, earnestly. “When Christ, the Son of God, came on earth to redeem lost men, he commanded his followers to do good to them that did evil to us, and to pray for them that tried to harm us. We have his very words, written in our bibles.”
“You got him?” said Peter, with interest. “See you read him, of'en. Got dat book here?”