She heard herself addressed, but she did not pause, and when Odatha sprung forward to arrest her progress that he might tell her what he wished, one of her braves pushed him back, and, transfixed with irresolution, he beheld her swim the creek and climb the cliffs on the opposite bank.
“When the Yellow Bloodhound comes, Coleola tarries not,” she cried, looking down upon the war band; “but had Odatha given the pale-faced girl and the big hunter to her, she would have stayed and faced the dog whose throat she longs to cut. Between Coleola and the Yellow Bloodhound flows the river of darkness, and some day or some night she meets him on the bank, and then the yelp of the dog will be heard for the last time. Coleola goes, but she will come again, and the plagues of the Manitou shall fall upon Odatha and his red snakes. The whites shall yet be Coleola’s; they shall not be skinned by the Yellow Bloodhound. Whoever slays one of Coleola’s braves shall fall before her, and the she White Snake shot Segagi! Odatha, forget nothing that has fallen from Coleola’s lips. Snakes, into the dark woods. Away!”
As she uttered the last word, she shook her snake at the mute spectators, and, whirling on her heel, sprung from sight.
“Then the pale-faces are the Yellow Bloodhound’s?” said Nehonesto, addressing Odatha.
“Odatha has spoken,” was the reply, and Nehonesto, with a determined expression, turned to Kate again.
She had almost entirely recovered from the serpent bite, and under Nehonesto’s protection was permitted to pillow her head upon her father’s breast.
“Kate, Kate, thank God you yet live, despite the machinations of our enemies,” said the old man, bowing his head to receive his daughter’s kiss. “I know now that He watches over us.”
“Yes, father, but whose arm will interpose between us and the knife of the Yellow Bloodhound?” asked Kate.
Despite his hopings, Oliver Blount groaned.
“Oh, Heavenly Father, why does such a fiend as Jules Bardue curse the earth? Oh, that Swamp Oak’s knife had reached his heart.”