“Let us not now stop to talk of these matters, I pray thee, oh mine uncle.  Thy precious life is still in great danger.  Let us first perfect thy escape, and another time I will answer thee concerning this secret passage.  For the present I beg of thee to make thy way, accompanied by the good Master Le Moyne, as speedily and secretly as may be, down the river to its mouth, where do still lie the two small ships left behind by Admiral Ribault.  Let me, who am young, strong, and active, tarry here for a short time, that perchance I may aid others of our people to effect an escape by means of this same tunnel.  I will delay but shortly, and will overtake and rejoin thee long ere thy feebleness shall have permitted thee to reach the river’s mouth.”

Although Laudonniere was most reluctant to part with his nephew at such a time, he deemed that it would be an exhibition of selfishness on his part to compel his attendance upon himself when it was possible that by remaining he might save the lives of some of the unfortunates within the fort.  Therefore he reluctantly gave his consent that Rene should remain behind for a short time, but charged him not to unnecessarily expose himself to danger.  Then both men embraced the lad fervently, gave him their blessing, and departed, full of the hope of speedily meeting with him again—­a hope that was destined to be sadly deferred.

After their departure Rene again entered the tunnel and made his way back to its inner terminus.  There he cautiously drew himself up from its mouth, crept to the edge of the building beneath which it lay, and watched and listened for what he might discover.

He had not been there a minute when he was startled by hearing a smothered groan close at hand.  Listening attentively, he heard it again; and feeling confident that he who uttered it must be one of his own countrymen, he began to creep carefully, and without betraying his presence by the slightest sound, in the direction from which it proceeded.  At length he heard a third groan, so close to him that he instinctively drew back for fear of coming into contact with the person who uttered it.  Then, in the lightest of whispers, he inquired,

“Who is there?  I am Rene de Veaux.”

For answer came the whisper, “Heaven help thee, Master Rene, if thou art in like plight with myself!  I am thy old friend Simon, sorely wounded, and with no hope save that of falling into the hands of these fiends of Spaniards when daylight shall enable them to make a thorough search of the premises.”

“Cheer up, good Simon, and speak not thus dolefully,” whispered Rene.  “If thou canst walk, or even crawl, I can save thee.  Where lies thy wound?”

“Not so that it interferes with my crawling or even walking; for though it seems to lie in several portions of my body at once, it affects not my legs.  If thou hast knowledge of a chance of escape, however slender, lead on, and I will gladly follow thee, for hopes I have none in remaining here.”