When Elephant at length burst out of the fringe of wood and gained the track that followed the course of the river, she was immediately seen by the plunderers, who laughed at the strange rider but did not follow her, with the exception of one man—an Indian, painted and feathered,—who started in pursuit, hoping, possibly, for an easy scalp.
He soon came close up, and, being armed with a bow, sent an arrow in advance of him. The shaft was well aimed. It grazed the flank of Elephant, inflicting a painful wound. This woke up the old horse surprisingly, so that it not only broke into a gallop, but set off at racing speed as it used to do when young. The Indian was badly mounted, and gradually lost ground, whereupon he sent after the fugitives several more arrows which all fell wide of the mark.
The change to Old Peg was as a reprieve from death! The trot had almost dislocated her bones, and shaken her up like an addled egg, and the change to racing speed afforded infinite relief. She could scarcely credit her senses, and she felt a tendency to laugh again as she glanced over her shoulder. But that glance removed the tendency, for it revealed the Indian warrior, in all his paint and feathers and streaming scalp-locks, in hot pursuit, while the whiz of another arrow close past her ear convinced our heroine that it was not a dream.
The jolting to which the poor old creature was subjected had disturbed her costume not a little. Her shawl came nearly off, and, holding on by one pin, fluttered like a flag of defiance. Her slippers, which were of the carpet pattern, were left behind on the prairie to perplex the wolves, and her voluminous hair—once a rich auburn, but now a pearly grey—having escaped its cap and fastenings, was streaming out gaily in the breeze, as if to tempt the fingers and knife of the pursuer.
A stern-chase is a long one, whether ashore or afloat. Pursuer and pursued went rapidly down the Settlement until they came in sight of the band which had come to rescue Peg. They received her with a wild cheer of surprise and joy, which turned the Red-skin to the right-about, and sent him back to his friends much faster than he had come.
On receiving his report, the half-breeds at once dashed off in pursuit of the settlers, and did not draw rein until they reached the place where the Scotchmen had made a stand. The latter were greatly outnumbered, at least in fighting men, but they showed such a resolute front, that Cuthbert Grant, the half-breed leader, again interfered to prevent bloodshed if possible. After calming his men, and advising forbearance, he turned to Duncan McKay senior, who was the settlers’ spokesman, and said—
“If you will go peaceably away out of the colony, we will spare you, but if you show fight your blood be on your own heads, for I cannot restrain my men much longer.”
“Iss it sparin’ us you will be talkin’ of, Cuthbert Grant?” answered the Highlander, with scorn. “Wow! but if it wass not for the weemen an’ children that’s with us, you would hev a goot chance o’ bein’ in need o’ sparin’ yoursels; an’ it iss not much o’ the blood o’ the Grants, either, that’s in your veins, or ye would scorn to consort wi’ such fire-raisin’ cut-throats. It iss the fortune of war—whatever, and we can’t affoord to leave our weemen an’ bairns defenceless. So we accept your terms, if we are not hindered from carryin’ away our arms.”
“Carry away whatever you like,” replied Grant, quietly, “only be off at once, or I’ll not answer for the consequences.”