It was after sunset that evening when the war-party reached the camp site selected as suitable for the orgy in which they proposed to indulge. The canoe containing Donald and the cask of fire-water was among the last to make a landing. Already fires were lighted on the bank above, and the earlier arrivals were impatiently awaiting the liquor for which they had been willing to barter a highly prized captive. Thus the moment it landed the cask was seized and borne triumphantly into camp, followed by all who had been on the beach. For the first time since his capture, Donald was left to himself, forgotten or overlooked in the general excitement. He stood for a minute, irresolute. His opportunity for escape had come. It would be easy to push off the canoe, jump in, and paddle away. To be sure, his absence would be quickly discovered and a hot pursuit would ensue, but he was willing to risk that. Or should he slip into the underbrush, take a great circuit about the camp and make his way to Detroit overland through the trackless forest? It would be a difficult but not impossible thing to do. Still, it must not be thought of, for there was Edith still a captive, and any freedom that he might gain must be devoted to her rescue. So he must take his chances of escape by water.
Donald was moving toward the canoe, when his steps were arrested by another consideration. What would become of Bullen? In their rage at the flight of one captive, the liquor-crazed savages would surely kill the other. Could he abandon a comrade to such a fate? Certainly not. If he escaped at all, it must be in company with the little paymaster who had proved himself so loyal. So this opportunity must be allowed to slip by, for poor Bullen was somewhere up there in the camp, cutting wood or performing other of the menial tasks allotted to him.
"No; old Bullen must not be deserted. There were but two of them left now, and they must stand by each other." Thus thinking, Donald turned toward the camp, but halted at the sound of approaching voices. Then two figures appeared through the dusk, both running, and one apparently pursued by the other. But one was swearing, and the other laughing. It was poor Bullen, clad in the ragged blanket,—which was now his sole garment,—sent down to fetch his own tub, to which one of the chiefs had taken such a fancy that he always sat in it before the evening camp-fires. The labor of carrying it up from the canoes at night, and back again in the morning devolved upon its original owner, who had thus come to hate it with a bitter hatred. This time he had purposely shirked the task of lugging the clumsy thing up that steep bank, and so had been sent back for it. The young guard who accompanied him was already exhilarated by a cup of fire-water, and in such haste to return for more that he found great delight in compelling his charge to run by prodding him from behind with a fish-spear.
As Donald was somewhat hidden in the shadow of a tree, neither of the newcomers noticed him, until the little paymaster had succeeded in getting the tub on his back, and started to retrace his weary way to the camp. Then, as Donald stepped from the shadow, Bullen, recognizing him, and instantly realizing their opportunity, turned like a flash, lunged forward with lowered head, and butted the young savage squarely in the stomach. He fell like a log, with his assailant and the tub on top of him. Ere he could regain his voice or breath, he was gagged, bound, and lifted into a canoe, which was immediately shoved off.
No word was spoken by either of the fugitives as the light craft shot away under the noiseless but powerful dips of their straining paddles; but, in spite of his anxiety, Donald could not help noticing and wondering at his comrade's proficiency in the art of canoeing. The painful lessons of his captivity had taught him how to escape from it; and he who two months before had never seen a birch canoe was now paddling one with the skill of an expert.
They were not gone from the beach more than five minutes, though their point of departure was already lost to view in the darkness, when a confusion of voices announced that their escape was discovered, and infused a new energy into their efforts. Donald was laying a course due west, and not more than a quarter of a mile from the beach. All at once he laid in his paddle, and said: "Face about carefully, Bullen, and help me chuck this useless weight overboard."
"Are you going to drown him?" asked the other, as he obeyed the order to face about.
"Not if I can help it; but we must take care that he doesn't drown us. He would be only too glad of a chance to upset the canoe; and he wouldn't have very hard work, either."
The getting of that young savage into the water was a difficult and ticklish job; but they finally succeeded, after Donald had first removed the gag from his mouth. He took the Indian's knife, and, as the latter slid into the water, Bullen held him by the scalp-lock, while Donald severed the thong that bound his wrists. In his rage, the Indian attempted to seize the gunwale of the canoe and pull it under; but, anticipating this, Donald struck him a rap on the head with the back of the knife that caused him to change his mind.
"Do you think he can swim with his feet bound?" asked Bullen, as the two white men resumed their paddling.