They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the
captive's heart nearly stopped beating as she saw the hand of a savage
outlined against the sky. As she observed that he was steadily
approaching, she halted and was debating whether or not to dart off in
the woods, and depend upon herself for safety, when Hans spoke:
"Dat you, Oonomoo?"
"Yeh--'tis me." The quick eye of the Huron had caught a glimpse of the
girl behind the Dutchman, and he now came up and addressed her:
"Is my friend 'fraid?"
"No, no; thank Heaven! is that you, my good, kind Oonomoo?" asked the
girl, reeling forward, until sustained by the gentle grasp of the
Indian.
"Yeh--me take care of you. Here somebody else--t'ink he know how
better--guess like him, too." She caught a glimpse of another form as
the savage spoke in his jesting manner. She needed nothing more to
assure her of its identity. Lieutenant Canfield came forward, and
placing one arm around her waist, and drawing her fervently to him, he
said:
"Oh! my _dear_ Mary, I am so glad to see you again. Are you unharmed?"
"Not a hair of my head has been injured. And how is my dear father and
mother and sister Helen?"
"Your father was perfectly well and in good spirits when I left him a
few days since, and as he knows nothing of this calamity, there is no
reason for believing it is any different with him. Your mother and
sister I think know nothing of this, although I fear their
apprehensions must be excited.
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