When the
Pottawattamie seized the Chippewa, he uttered a yell, which
instantly brought every man of his party to his feet. As the savages
now united in the whoops, and the dogs began to bark wildly, an
infernal clamor was made.
At first, le Bourdon did not know how to act. He greatly feared the
dogs, and could not but think of Margery, and the probable
consequences, should those sagacious animals follow him across the
marsh. But he did not like the idea of abandoning Pigeonswing, when
a single blow of his arm, or a kick of his foot, might be the cause
of his escape. While deliberating in painful uncertainty, the sounds
of the struggle ceased, and he saw the sentinel rising again into
the light, limping like one who had suffered by a fall. Presently he
heard a footstep near him, and, calling in a low voice, he was
immediately joined by Pigeonswing. Before the bee-hunter was aware
of his intention, the Chippewa seized his rifle, and levelling at
the sentinel, who still stood on the brow of the hill, drawn in all
his savage outlines distinctly in the light of the flames, he fired.
The cry, the leap into the air, and the fall, announced the unerring
character of the aim.
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