She thought if she could attract Mrs. Mackenzie's attention, the boat might be brought near enough to shore for Queen to reach it safely, but the flutter of her handkerchief was not even seen, much less understood. If she could not get to the boat there was only one other way—to watch for an opening and ride like mad to Fort Wayne, trusting to Queen's speed for her safety. It seemed hardly possible that she could hide among the sand hills till dark, or even until there was an opportunity to try the last desperate plan.
Then out upon that plain of death danced Mad Margaret, with her white hair hanging loosely about her. "I see blood!" she shrieked. "The time of the blood is at hand!"
A tomahawk gleamed in the air, but fell harmlessly beyond her, and there was a murmur of horror in the ranks of the Indians. She went straight toward them, and they fell back, afraid of her and of her alone. Doctor Norton saw what she intended to do, and, with his hand on the bridle of Katherine's horse, kept behind her and out of range.
Step by step, with demoniac laughter and unintelligible cries, with every muscle of her frail body tense, Mad Margaret forced the Indians back. One, bolder than the rest, and drunk with blood, stole up behind her with his tomahawk upraised.
"Mère! Ma mère!" cried Chandonnais, darting out of the ranks. In a flash he had wrenched the weapon away from the Indian and started toward Margaret, hacking at those who opposed him.
A savage cry rang at his right, and Margaret turned. She saw the danger and retreated, then ran like a deer between the Indian and Chandonnais. "Mère! Ma mère!" the half-breed cried again, as the tomahawk intended for him sank into her darkened brain. With the tears raining down his face he caught her to him, and went backward, step by step, toward the place where the others were fighting, with the dead body of his mother in his arms.
Instinctively the soldiers drew near him, but kept to the rear. The Indians were advancing, but no one of them was bold enough to touch the man who held Mad Margaret. A moment more and the gap would have been closed, with that frail body forming a powerful defence; but a warrior, maddened by the loss of his friends, crept in behind Chandonnais and struck him down.
Then the battle took a new lease of life. In the midst of the smoke Norton saw Katherine's strained, white face close to his. They were surrounded, and a company of Indians, brandishing their war clubs, were racing toward them. Every avenue of escape was cut off. "Death comes," said the Doctor, quietly, wiping the blood from his face; "and here and now I dare to tell you what you must have known, that I——"