I shook myself,
and told my men to pick up their paddles.
But we were to travel no more toward the southwest that night. My plan
was to turn back, paddle due east, and reach the peninsula before the
late moonrise. This doubling on my track was to cheat Pemaou if he
were indeed pursuing. Then I was planning to make the peninsula my
headquarters for a time. I had left word at the islands that I was on
my way to confer with the Malhominis, but I had not committed myself as
to where I should make my permanent camp. I hoped, in this game of
hide and seek, to shake off the Huron, and leave the woman in safe
hiding, while I went on my mission from tribe to tribe.
And so I told the men to work with muffled paddles. I thought the
precaution somewhat unnecessary, but took it as a matter of form. Now
that I was in action again, I felt in command of the situation. And
then, from some shadowy distance, I heard the splash of a pursuing oar.
I commanded silence, and we craned into the darkness, and listened. We
all heard it. The sound came as regularly as a heart-beat, and it was
no muffled stroke. The oarsman was using his paddle openly and fast.
The sound came from behind us, a little to the north, and, judging from
its growing distinctness, it was following hard in our track.
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