"They outsail us?" I inquired.
"Ay, before the wind, they do, M'sieu!" said Tamin. "On this tack, maybe not. We'll soon see!"
"But what's this but a mere trap we are running our heads into?" I urged.
"I fear there's nothing else but to quit the boat and make through the woods, Father," explained Marc; "that is, if we're so fortunate as to keep ahead till we reach land."
"In the woods, I suppose, we can outwit them or outfoot them," said I; "but those Micmacs are untiring on the trail."
"I know a good man with a good boat over by Shulie on the Fundy shore," interposed Tamin. "And I know the way over the hills. We'll cheat the rogue of a priest yet!" And he shrewdly measured the distance that parted us from our pursuers.
"It galls me to be running from these dogs!" I growled.
"Our turn will come," said Marc, glowering darkly at the canoes. "Do you guess the Black Abbé is with them?"
"Not he!" grunted Tamin.
"Things may happen this time," said I, "and the good father may wish to keep his soutane clear of them. It's all plain enough to me now. The Indians, finding themselves tricked, have gone back on the Pereau trail and most inopportunely have released the gentle Abbé from his bonds. He has seen through our game, and has sent his pack to look to it that we never get to de Ramezay. But he will have no hand in it. Oh, no!"