Oonomoo was
scarce a second behind him. The son pointed down-stream, and, dipping
deep the paddle, the Huron sent the frail vessel forward at a velocity
that was truly wonderful. A half-mile at this rate, and a tributary of
the creek--a brook, merely--was reached, up which the canoe shot with
such speed, that a few minutes later it ran almost its entire length
where the water was no more than an inch in depth. Springing ashore,
Niniotan darted off, closely followed by his father, until they reached
a portion of the wood so dense that they paused.
"Here was left Fluellina," said the boy, looking around at Oonomoo.
The latter uttered his usual signal, a tremulous, thrilling whistle,
similar to that by which he had made himself known to his child before,
but he received no response. Three times it was repeated with a
considerable rest, when, like the faint echo far in the distance, came
back the response. The Huron was about to plunge into the thicket,
when a sound caught his ear, and the next moment his wife was before
him. Neither spoke a word, until they had stood a few seconds in a
fervent embrace, when Fluellina stepped back, and looking up in her
husband's face, said: "The Shawnees have found our home and are now
following me."
The husband became the warrior on the instant. His woodcraft told him
that if his foes were searching for him and his, they would be in such
force that he could not hope to combat with them; and the only plan,
therefore, that offered him any safety was to fall back and meet his
white friends at the earliest possible moment.
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