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Updated: May 7, 2025
He turned in some surprise, and there kneeling beside him, with her face buried in her hands, he beheld a young girl whom, although her features were concealed from him, he recognised at once; it was Amoahmeh. Even as Isidore ceased, the girl's emotion utterly overpowered her, and she burst into an uncontrollable flood of tears.
Is he then really safe?" she added, clasping her bands. "Quick, quick!" replied Amoahmeh. "This way, through the casement slip your feet into these, they are no strange things to one who has been so long among us," and with these words she pointed to the snow-shoes which lay just outside the window, already half-hidden by the snow. Marguerite shrank back alarmed, but Amoahmeh continued
Amoahmeh had risen above such childish superstitions, but she seemed as though the chief possessed some hold over her which had power to subdue even her lofty spirit. She was the first to speak. "White Eagle has bidden me come here. What would he have of me?" "Can the daughter of War-thunder ask?" was the reply.
All this was of course quickly explained, and the young soldier and his guide were soon comfortably housed, but not until they had committed poor Amoahmeh, with many an expression of their gratitude for her kindly help, to the care of an Indian family, into whose wigwam she was received with all the awe that her infirmity was sure to command.
Her guardian left her thus engaged whilst he sought out Amoahmeh and communicated to her not only the news of her freedom, but that which seemed to touch her far more deeply, Marguerite's surrender of herself for the purpose of setting her deliverer free.
"You may lift your veil to me, for I am thankful to say that I am the new commandant of this place, and my heartfelt wish is to comfort you, and help you if I can." There was a brief pause, then the veil was lifted, and revealed the face of Amoahmeh. It was some little time before the baron could recover from the shock. "What is all this?" he at last exclaimed.
"Where is Marguerite or Gabrielle and who are you?" "If Monsieur de Valricour has forgotten me, I have not forgotten one who was once so kind to me," replied Amoahmeh. "What!" said he, as the words called up a recollection of the interest he had taken in Marguerite's protegée. "Why, you are the Indian girl who saved Isidore's life at Fort William Henry. How came you here?"
At this juncture Amoahmeh once more made her appearance, bringing with her a pair of Indian moccasins, with leggings to match, on the manufacture of which out of materials found in one of the deserted dwellings she had been busily employed since her interview with the young soldier.
It sent forth a flash and a puff of smoke, but the report was lost in the discharge of a dozen French muskets, which stretched the Indian dead upon the grass. It was too late. With a loud cry Amoahmeh dropped down at Isidore's feet. Flinging away his sword he knelt beside her, and raised her up a little.
Then without waiting for the thanks which his guest was about to offer, the sturdy woodsman hurried away with his wife to carry his good intentions into effect. Amoahmeh, who had remained at a little distance during this colloquy, now approached Isidore, as if about to speak to him, and as she seemed to hesitate, he gave her a smile of encouragement.
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