George took the hatchet from Lance's hand, and said to the Indian, in English: "Though you have tried to kill me, I will spare your life. But I will not trust you behind me. Walk ten paces in front of us, in the direction of the Alleghany River."
The Indian turned, and, after getting his bearings, started off in a manner which showed he understood what was required of him.
The Indians have keen ears, so that George and Lance dared not speak in his hearing, but by exchanging signs they conveyed to each other that there were enemies on their path, of whom this fellow was only one.
Steadily the three tramped for hours, Lance carrying the Indian's gun. When darkness came on they stopped and made the Indian make the fire, which he did, scowling, as being squaw's work. They then divided with him their scanty ration of dried venison, and, George taking charge of the guns, Lance slept two hours. He was then wakened by George, who lay down by the fire and slept two hours, when he too was wakened. George then said to the Indian, who had remained sleepless and upright all the time:
"We have determined to let you go, as we have not food enough for three men. Go back to your tribe, and tell them that we spared your life; but before you go pile wood on the fire, for we may have to remain here, on account of the rise in the river, for several days."
This was a ruse, but the Indian fell at once into the trap. After replenishing the fire he started off in a northwesterly direction. As soon as George and Lance were sure that he was out of sight they made off in the opposite direction, and after some hours of trudging through snow and ice they found themselves on the bank of the river. They had hoped to find it frozen over, but, instead, there was only a fringe of ice-cakes along the shores and swirling about in the main channel.
Lance looked at George in some discouragement, but George only said, cheerfully: "It is lucky you have the hatchet, Lance. We must make a raft."
The short winter day was nearly done before a rude raft was made, and on it the two embarked. The piercing wind dashed their frail contrivance about, and it was buffeted to and fro by the floating ice. They could not make the opposite shore, but were forced to land on an island, where they spent the night. The hardships told on the older man, and George saw, by the despairing look in Lance's eyes, that he could do no more that day. Wood, however, was plentiful, and a great fire was made.
"Cheer up, Lance!" cried George, when the fire began to blaze: "there is still more dried venison left. You shall sleep to-night, and in the morning the river will be frozen over, and one more day's march will bring us to civilization."
Lance was deeply mortified at his temporary collapse, but there was no denying it. George had but little sleep that night. Five days afterwards the two parted—Lance to return to Greenway Court, and George to press on to Williamsburg. By that time they had secured horses.