CHAPTER XV.
FORT ROYAL.
At first, huddled there together on the rocky spit of land, we stared at one another in dazed silence. It had been so sudden a transformation that we could not comprehend it all at once. A moment before while the horrid chorus of war-whoops rang in our ears we had each of us been marked out for death by tomahawk or bullet. Now our red enemies had vanished as swiftly and noiselessly as the deer; there was no sound but the droning chant of the rapids, and the singing of the birds in the forest trees.
But five of us were left; we had been eight that morning. As I thought of the three brave fellows we had lost, I made a vow that sooner or later I would avenge them. Then I knelt beside Flora, and by comforting words sought to banish the look of frozen horror from her lovely face. Mrs. Gummidge had fainted, and her husband was dashing water on her temples. Baptiste was wringing his dripping clothes and bemoaning the loss of his prized musket. We were all drenched to the skin, and it behooved us to mend our sad plight as quickly as possible.
“Our lives are safe Gummidge,” I said, rising, “and that is something to be thankful for. We must have a fire to dry our clothes, and then we will be off on foot for the fort. The canoe is at the bottom, and crushed beyond repair.”
“But why did those red varmints spare us?” Gummidge cried hoarsely. “They melted away like chaff. What does it mean, Carew?”
“The leader of the Indians was Gray Moose,” I replied. “I saved him from a grizzly last winter, and this was his way of paying the debt. The moment he recognized me he called off his braves.”
“Then they were not on the war-path against the company? There was a white man with them.”
“I know that,” I answered, “and it was he who hired the savages.”
I briefly explained my view of the situation to Gummidge, who was aware of all that had happened in Quebec.