So the two cautiously made their way in that direction, and had not gone more than fifty paces when they came upon a sight almost as startling as had been the discharge of the musket. It was the dead body of a Huron warrior not yet cold. His life's blood still trickled from a jagged wound in the breast and crimsoned the snow on which he had fallen. On all sides of him were other signs that told as plainly as spoken words how narrowly our lads had escaped falling into the hands of a merciless foe. There were marks of a cautious approach along the trail they themselves had made the day before, of the halt for observation when the intended victims were discovered, and of the panic-stricken flight that followed the unexpected musket-fire by which one of their number had been so suddenly killed.
"The thunder-stick is indeed a god," remarked Nahma. "It can discover and kill the enemies of those to whom it is friendly even before they have knowledge of approaching danger."
"Yes," replied Tasquanto, as he coolly scalped the dead Huron; "with it to fight on our side we are become as sagamores, terrible and all-powerful. I will take it to my own people, and when it shall lead them in battle who will be able to stand before them? Even the white men, whom many still think to be gods, are now no stronger than we. Oh, my friend! let us shout for joy, since in all the world there is no man more powerful than are Massasoit and Tasquanto, his brother."
When the exultant young warriors returned to camp, bearing with them the trophies of their exploit, they also carried, very reverently, the weapon which they termed a "thunder-god," and which had rendered them such notable service. Then, while Nahma set to work on a pair of snow-shoes, Tasquanto, who had seen the French soldiers oil and burnish their guns, coated his with bear's grease, removed its smoke-stains, and rubbed its barrel until it shone. When he had done for it everything that his limited knowledge prescribed, he placed it in a corner where they could constantly admire it, and began the construction of a rude toboggan of bark.
By the time this was completed Nahma's snow-shoes were also ready for service, and the fugitives were prepared to start on their long southward journey. For a beginning of this they made their way slowly up to the head-waters of the Chaudière, crossed a rugged divide to those of the Penobscot, and there established a permanent camp. From this they set lines of traps that yielded a rich reward in the way of pelts, and before spring opened they got out the frame of a canoe. As soon as sap began to run in the birch-trees they secured enough bark to cover it, and by the time the river opened they were prepared to float with its current to the country of Tasquanto's people.
Their voyage down the swift-rushing river was filled with adventures and with hair-breadth escapes. Not only were they in almost constant danger from foaming rapids and roaring waterfalls, but only unceasing vigilance and an occasional display of their musket saved them from death or capture by the hostile tribes through whose territory they passed.
At length they carried around the last cataract and entered upon the long, broad reaches by which the river flowed in dignified majesty to the sea. This was Tasquanto's country, and now they might watch for the villages in which he would be assured a friendly welcome.
Finally one was sighted, and Nahma proposed that, after the custom of white men on returning from victorious expeditions, they should discharge their thunder-stick. Nothing loath to add to his own importance by such an announcement of their coming, Tasquanto promptly assented to this proposition. So they landed a few hundred yards above the village and made preparations for the second discharge of their formidable weapon.