With a grunt of satisfaction, Bounce at once proceeded to make preparations for crossing the river. Cutting a large piece of bark from a neighbouring tree, he hastily formed it into a species of dish or flat boat; then, stripping off all his garments, he tied them up in a tight bundle, and placed them in this miniature canoe; after which he plunged boldly into the stream and made for the opposite shore, pushing his little ark before him. In five minutes he had crossed, and entered into a hasty conversation with Gibault in low, eager tones, while pulling on his clothes.
“First of all, lad,” said Bounce, laying his hand impressively on the other’s shoulder, “are they all safe?—none killed?”
“Non; dey be all alive, for certain.”
“I’m thankful for that—very thankful. Now go ahead, lad, and tell me what ye know, while I pull on my leggins.”
“Vell, dey be alive, as I have say. Mais dey not live long.”
Gibault said this with such a look of woebegone despair that Bounce paused in the midst of his dressing and said with much anxiety—“Wot’s wrong?—why not, lad?”
“’Cause dey vill be tortured to death demain, or de day après de morrow. Stay, I vill tell to you all I knows. You mus’ know, ven I run avay from you, I do so ’cause I know dat canoe ver’ probabilie git opturnéd, so I come to river bank before every von. Dere is von big tree dere, so op I go like von skvirrel. You know vat come to pass après dat. You smash de head of de Injun, aussi you smash de paddil. Den you escape, an’ de Injuns howl vid passion!
“Ver’ soon after dat, dey all come to de bank of river—forty of ’em, I tink—draggin’ our comerades vid dem, all tied by de wrist—Redhand, an’ Big Valler, an’ March, an’ Hawksving, an’ poor Monsieur Bertram. Mais, dat Monsieur Bertram, be most ’straordinary man! He terriblement frightened for every leetle ting, but him not fright von bit for big ting! Hims look at de sauvage dat hold him as if him be a lion. I do tink Monsieur Bertram vould fight vell if hims obleeged.
“After good deal of consultoration an’ disputerin’, dey vas about for go avay; so I sit ver’ still, but I move my foot von leetle morsil, an’ von small leaf fall to de ground. It vas ver’ small leaf, but Hawksving him see it. Ah! he be von cliver Injun. Ver’ sharp in sight too! I tink him should be named Hawkseye. No von else notice it, but I see Hawksving visper to Big Valler. Dat man be sharp feller too. He turns hims back to de tree, nevair vonce looked up, but him burst into loud laugh, like von tondre-clap, an’ cry out, ‘Vell done, Gibault! Keep close, old feller; their village is one day off towards the sun!’ An’ den he laugh again. Ah! ho! how my heart him jump ven he speak my name! But de Injuns tink hims yell out to some von cross de river, for him looks dat vay. Vell, off dey go, and I begin to breathe more easy; but ven dey git far-off, I hear the voice of Big Valler come back like far-avay tondre, cryin’, ‘Dey’re goin’ to roast us alive to-morrow; look sharp!’ Dat vas de last I hear. Den de darkness come, an’ den you come, an’, now, vat is to come nixt?”
Poor Gibault spoke fast, and perspired very much, and looked wild and haggard, for his nature was sensitive and sympathetic, and the idea of his comrades meeting with such a horrible fate was almost too much for him.