Careful, girl, careful. We have a treacherous foe to deal with.
We have the dead, and the dead only to deal with, replied Amy. They have gone to the Indian’s last hunting ground.
The rock was reached, and there lay the bloated bodies of the five Indians. They had caught hold of each other’s hair and around the waist.
Drowning men catch at straws, said the old man.
They had taken hold of each other for protection, and all had drowned in each other’s embrace.
But where did this rope come from that is wound around them? asked Shell.
Amy kept silent. She knew too well where the rope came from.
Well girls, it is rather early in the morning for a funeral, but I think we had better bury them now.
Where? asked Cora.
In a sailor’s grave he said. And taking his knife, cut the tangled rope loose, and one by one, he threw them into the River to be food for the fishes.