Young Lion of the Woods | Page 8

the ocean of time,
guided by the King of Pilots toward a land where glory never fades,
and where the True Light never grows dim, our passage may
continually be lit up by the reflecting rays of the Sun of
Righteousness." As she finished speaking a bright light flashed on the
starboard shore, quickly followed by the report of a musket. The
Captain, starting at the report, remarked, "perhaps that Indian (Paul)
has been watching and following." Here the Captain's words were cut
short by a loud cry from one of the children and the sound of a splash.
Little Jack, the fourth child, had tripped against the forward rail and
gone overboard. His mother, almost as quickly as the flash of a gun,
threw herself overboard at the stern of the sloop, holding on to the rail
with her hands and calling to the little fellow to catch hold of her dress,
as the tide carried him toward her. He was too far out to reach her skirt,
and the running water carried him by her. She immediately let go both
hands and floated from the vessel, and made a desperate effort to reach
her boy. The Captain, almost beside himself, put the helm hard down,
and was in the act of plunging in. Meantime his wife and son were
drifting farther away. Just then, making a second desperate effort, she
succeeded in grasping her child. At this moment a canoe shot like an
arrow past the sloop, in it was Paul Guidon, paddling with might and
main, making straight for the drowning mother and her boy. In another
minute he had the child grasped firmly in his long sinewy arms, and
laying his breast and head over the stern of the canoe, he called to the

mother to grasp at once his long hair as its ends fell into the water. He
managed to get the child safely into his canoe, but he experienced great
difficulty in saving its mother. She drifted fully one hundred yards, but
all the distance holding stoutly to the Indian's locks. With all the
strength of Paul Guidon he was not able to get Mrs. Godfrey into the
canoe. Once he nearly succeeded, but almost upset his little bark. He
told her to cling tightly to his hair, as he shoved the paddle over her
head, and at last he got the canoe to move slowly ahead, and in a few
minutes time he was at the side of the sloop, and the mother and child
were rescued from a watery grave. The Indian would not go on board,
and as soon as he saw that the mother and child were likely to recover,
he pulled away to the shore.
The child soon recovered, but the mother lay upon the deck for some
time in a half unconscious state. At times a quiet happiness seemed
singing in her soul, that often broke into words of praise as the vessel
drifted along in the stillness. On the right and left slept the country with
its wooded hills and dales. As Margaret Godfrey recovered she said,
"Charles, we appear to be sleeping on to our destination." "Yes," he
said; "but perhaps that Indian has been watching and following us,
hiding among the trees along the shore; and as we have been going
slowly all day, he could with ease keep way with us. He may now
consider us far enough away from the fort to decoy and murder us,
seize our vessel and goods, and no suspicion rest upon him as the
murderer and robber."
"It may be that he has accomplices on our track; a band of savages to
quietly dispose of us and seize our possessions." As he spoke these
words he appeared much more agitated than on the previous evening.
Margaret replied, "God's will be done! We must anchor at some point
to-night--Why not anchor here? At the earnest solicitation of his wife,
Captain Godfrey consented to run the sloop toward the shore and
anchor.
After a lengthened discussion between the Captain and his wife upon
the question of keeping watch during the night, Margaret carried her
point, and soon after stood alone on the deck.

The reader, doubtless, will wonder why Margaret expressed so strong a
desire to keep watch through the long, lonely hours of darkness. Before
the conclusion of the story is reached, he will have found out the
reason.
Soon all was hushed, gross darkness had gathered over the face of
nature, and the eyes of the beloved on board were closed in sleep. At
about midnight Margaret was slightly startled at hearing a footstep on
deck. "Paul," she whispered, "is that you." "Me," he answered in a low,
soft tone. "Most Indians away, far up country after game, and