Unpleasant as our task was, it proved to be less difficult of accomplishment than I had anticipated. There were blankets in the cabin bunks, and in these I wrapped the bodies. They were too heavy, however, for me to transport alone, and it required some threatening to induce Sam to give me the assistance necessary to deposit them in the shallow grave. Only the fear that I would not have him with us longer compelled his joining me. He was more frightened at the thought of being left alone than of contact with the dead. In bearing Pete's body from where it lay in the woods, we were compelled to pass by near where Rene sat, but she kept her eyes averted, and I experienced no desire to address her with empty words. Sam filled in the loose earth, rounding it into form, and the two of us stood above the fresh mound, our bent heads bared to the sunlight, while I endeavored to repeat brokenly a few words of prayer. As I finally turned gladly away, it was to note that the girl had risen to her feet and stood motionless, with face toward us. Her attitude and expression is still in memory the one dear remembrance of the scene. My inclination was to join her at once, but I knew that the negro would never enter the cabin alone, and now our first necessity was food. Of this I found a fair supply, and, compelling him to assist me, we hastily prepared a warm meal over the open fire. It was eaten without, no one of us desiring to remain in the midst of that scene of death; and the very knowledge that the dreaded burial was completed and that we were now free to depart, brought to all of us a renewed courage.
The sun was high in the heavens by this time, the golden light brightening the little clearing and dissipating the gloom of the surrounding forest. All suspicion that the murderer, or murderers, might still remain in the immediate neighborhood of their crime had entirely deserted my mind. Where, and by what means, they had fled could not be determined, but I felt assured they were no longer near by, I had sought in vain for any other path than the one we had followed from the mouth of the creek, while the suggestion which Rene had advanced, that the steamer had tied up to the shore, permitting the raiding party to land, grew more and more plausible to my mind. It scarcely seemed probable that one man alone, or even two men, had committed this crime, and the sole survivor disappear so completely with the prisoners. I had turned each detail over and over in my thought, while I worked, yet to but little purpose. The only present solution of the problem seemed to be our return to that hidden basin where our boat lay, and the remaining there in concealment until the darkness of another night rendered it safe to once more venture upon. the river. Perhaps during those intervening hours, we might, by conferring together, decide our future course; some new thought might guide us in the right direction, or some occurrence drive us into definite action.
I spoke of this to her, as I finally approached where she rested on the stump, eager and glad to escape from all memories of that somber cabin I had just left. She stood before me, listening quietly, her eyes lifting to my face, as though she sought to read there the exact meaning of my words.
"You—you are no longer so confident," she said, "your plan has failed?"
"I am afraid it has," I admitted, "for it was based altogether on the assistance of Amos Shrunk. He is no longer alive, and I do not know where to turn for guidance. There would seem to be danger in every direction; the only question is—in which way lies the least?"
"You begin to regret your attempt to aid me?"
"No," impulsively. "So far as that goes, I would do it all over again. Your safety means more to me now than ever before—you must believe that."
"Why should I? All I have brought you is trouble. I can read in your face how discouraged you are. You must not think I do not understand. I do understand—perfectly. I can see how all this has happened. You cannot really care. What you have done has been only a response to impulse; merely undertaken through a spirit of adventure. Then—then why not let it end here, and—Sam and I can go on to—to whatever is before us? It is nothing to you."
"You actually believe I would consent to that?" I asked, in startled surprise at the vehemence of her words. "That I could prove such a cur?"
"But why not? It would not be a cowardly act at all. I could not blame you, for I have no claim on your service—never have had. You have done a thousand times too much already; you have risked honor, reputation, and neglected duty to aid my escape; and—and I am nothing to you—can be nothing."