The boy rose cautiously--looked for a moment on the Indians, and assured himself that they all slept profoundly. He then possessed himself of Mecumeh's knife, which lay at his feet, and severed the cord which bound his mother to the tree. Neither of them spoke a word--but with the least possible sound they resumed the way by which they had come from the shore--Louis with the confidence, and Garanga with the faint hope, of reaching it before they were overtaken.
It may easily be imagined by those who hear it how often the poor mother, timid as a fawn, was startled by the evening breeze stirring the leaves, or the flight of a bird from among the boughs of the trees, but the boy bounded forward with all the courage of his race(1), as if there were neither fear nor danger in the world.
[_Illustration: Designed & Etched by W. H. Brooks, A. R. H. A._
The Boy rose cautiously from the Warrior's grasp.
_London, Published by Colburn & Bentley, April 1830._]
They had nearly attained the margin of the river where Louis meant to launch one of the canoes, and drop down the current, when the Indian yell, resounding through the woods, struck on their ears. They were missed, pursued, and escape was impossible. Garanga, her bosom filled with overmastering fear, sunk to the ground. Nothing could check the career of Louis. "On!--on, mother!" he cried, "to the shore!" She rose, and instinctively followed her boy. The sound of pursuit came nearer and nearer. They reached the shore, and there beheld three canoes coming swiftly up the river. Animated with hope, Louis screamed the watchword of the garrison, and was answered by his father's voice.
The possibility of escape, and the certain approach of her husband, infused new life into Garanga. "Your father cannot see us," she said, "as we stand here in the shade of the trees; hide yourself in that thicket, I will plunge into the water." Louis crouched under the bushes, and was completely hidden by an overhanging grape-vine, while his mother advanced a few steps into the water where she could be distinctly seen. A shout from the canoes apprised her that she was recognised, and, at the same moment, the Indians, who had now reached the shore, rent the air with their cries of rage and defiance. They stood for a moment as if deliberating what next to do; Mecumeh maintained an undaunted and resolved air, but, with his followers, who did not possess the courage of their race, the aspect of armed men, and a force of thrice their number, had the effect to paralyze their souls. They fled. He looked after them, cried "Shame!" and then with a desperate yell leaped into the water, and stood beside Garanga. The canoes were now within a few yards--he put his knife to her bosom--"The daughter of the White Crane," he said, "should have died by the judgment of our warriors, but now by her brother's hand she must perish:" and he drew back his arm to give vigour to the fatal stroke, when an arrow from the bow of the brave boy pierced his breast, and he fell insensible at his sister's side. A moment after Garanga was in the arms of her husband, and Louis, with his bow unstrung, bounded from the shore, and was received in his father's canoe; and the wild shores rung with the acclamations of the soldiers, while his father's tears were poured like rain upon his cheek.