“I have not a word, Claire; not one word,” said Dollard. “I am blind and dumb and glad.”
“Oh, do be blind to my rags and scratches! I would have crept on my hands and face to you, monsieur, my saint! But now I am not crying.”
“How did you reach us unharmed?”
“We saw no Iroquois. Have you yet seen them?”
“Not yet.”
“But there was the river. Massawippa dragged me through that. Your face looks thin, my Dollard.”
“I have suffered. I did not know heaven was to descend upon me.”
The Frenchmen and Indians, a stone’s-throw away, unable, indeed, to penetrate this singular encounter of the commandant’s, gave it scarcely a moment’s attention, but turned their eager gaze up the rapids. Dollard looked also, as suggestion became certainty.
He hurried Claire to the palisade, calling his men to arm.