“Injun nuthin!” he returned with vehemence.  “Thet ’s jist my way of sarcumventin’ the bloody varmints.  I shaved the hull blame thing soon as ever they let me loose, an’ then played loony, till thar ain’t no Injun ’long the shore as ’d tech me fer all the wampum in the Illini country.  ’T ain’t the fust time I saved my scalp by some sech dern trick.  I tell ye, it ’s easy ’nough ter beat Injuns if ye only know how.  By snakes!  I ’m sacred, I am,—­specially teched by the Great Spirit.  I tell ye, ter be real loony is dern nigh as good in an Injun camp as ter hev red hair like thet thar little Sister Celeste with the Pottawattomies.  She knows her business, you bet; an’ so does Ol’ Burns know hisn!”

His mention of her name instantly recalled me to the little group waiting above us, and doubtless already worried at my prolonged absence.

“Burns,” I interrupted, “this is no time for reminiscences.  I am here seeking some means of escape out of this place of horror.  What were you doing down here?”

“Sorter contemplatin’ a sea v’yage,” he said, dryly. “’T was rec’mended by my doctor fer the growth o’ my har.  So, snoopin’ ’round yere in the dark, an’ not over fond o’ Injun com’any, I found this yere boat.  Jest got in ter see how ’t was fixed, when ye jumped down yonder.  Reckon I ’d kinder like ter wet ‘er up an’ see wot she ’s like.”

“Good! so would I. This boat was placed here for that very purpose.  Now listen.  The young woman you just mentioned, that Indian missionary with the auburn hair, is above yonder, together with another young white girl rescued from the massacre, and the Frenchman, De Croix.  We have come here, on pledge of a half-breed chief that this boat would be ready for our escape.  And we have no time to waste, for we may be followed at any moment.”

“They ain’t seen ye stealin’ outer the camp?”

“No, but in doing it I was compelled to kill Little Sauk, and the others may find his body at any time.”

For a moment the sly old borderer made no response, and I knew he was quietly turning over the complicated situation in his own mind preparatory to intelligent action.  I heard him step from the boat into the shallow water.

“All right, lad!  I understand,” he said heartily, his former indifference vanished.  “Derned if I wouldn’t jist as soon leave that Parley-Voo behind; but I ‘m with ye, an’ I reckon Ol’ Burns ’ll give them thar redskins another dern good jolt.  Take hold here, boy, an’ we ‘ll run this yere man-o-war outside, where we kin ship the rest o’ her crew.”

The back-water rippling among the old piling was shallow, but the boat had little aboard and floated free, so that we worked it forward with little difficulty until we succeeded in rounding the slight promontory and held its bulging sides close against the mud wall.  Leaving Burns to keep it in place, I crept silently up the bank.

“Come!” I whispered, making my way to the side of Mademoiselle more by instinct than sight.  “The boat we sought is here and ready!  I have even found a boatman to aid us, in the form of Ol’ Burns, who, you remember, aided De Croix and me at the time of our famous race.  Let us waste no more of the night here, but do the rest of your talking in greater safety on the water.”