Arrived at the margin of the stream, he discovered a canoe drawn up a little way on the bank, approaching which, to push it into the water, he suddenly found himself surrounded by a number of Indians.  They were the confederates of Quecheco, who had been for some time lying in wait in the thick bushes.  Simultaneously rushing forward, they attempted to seize him; but this was no easy matter.  A resolute, athletic man, with body and sinews hardened; by his hunter’s life, and accustomed to exercise command over the natives, Sir Christopher shook roughly off the hands laid on him, and shouting, “ha, villains!—­death to traitors!” presented his gun, before the terror of whose fatal lightning his assailants recoiled.  Keeping the muzzle of the piece directed at them, and threatening with it any one who made a motion to draw near, the Knight succeeded in getting the canoe afloat, when, jumping in, he pushed from the shore.  With a pole found in the canoe, he strove to urge it across the stream; but, embarrassed with watching his enemies, and swept down by the current, the effort was attended with great difficulty.  Meanwhile, the savages, who had hitherto forborne any act that might endanger life, bearing in mind their instructions, became apprehensive of losing him, and excited by his resistance, began to shoot arrows at him.  One of the missiles took effect in the right arm of the Knight, just above the elbow, and the pole dropped from his hand.  At the same instant the canoe struck against a submerged rock and upset.  Taking advantage of the accident, the Indians sprung into the water, and succeeded in mastering his person.

“Quecheco,” said the Knight, reproachfully, as he stood upon the bank, “is it thou, and thou, too, Negabamat, who treat me as an enemy?  Why this violence?”

“Soog-u-gest is wanted among his own people,” said Quecheco, who had possessed himself of the much coveted gun which had fallen into the water.  “Indians will not hurt him.”

“Quecheco, thou art a villain,” said the Knight; “but if not an incarnate demon, outrage me not further than is necessary for thy base purpose.”

Thus spoke Sir Christopher, seeing that preparations were made to confine his arms with withes.  The Indians said something among themselves, and at length Quecheco replied: 

“Soog-u-gest always speaks the truth.  Let him promise not to run away, and his arms shall be free.”

“I promise,” said the Knight, who, in spite of his treatment, could not but feel pleased at this evidence of the confidence in his truth with which he had inspired the natives.  “Take the powder horn and bullets,” he added, detaching them from his person.  “I will attend you.”

At a sign from Quecheco the Indians released Sir Christopher, nor seemed after that to trouble themselves much with watching him.

An Indian, who had crossed the stream, now returned bearing the slain buck on his back, and threw it down on the grass, and his companions with pleased faces gathered around it.  Sir Christopher, notwithstanding the unpleasantness of his situation, could not avoid smiling.