Hiding in hollow trees what he could not bring back,
he began trudging toward Three Rivers with a string of geese, ducks,
and odd teal over his shoulders, Wading swollen brooks and scrambling
over windfalls, he retraced his way without pause till he caught sight
of the town chapel glimmering in the sunlight against the darkening
horizon above the river. He was almost back where his comrades had
left him; so he sat down to rest. The cowherd had driven his cattle
back to Three Rivers.[4] The river came lapping through the rushes.
There was a clacking of wild-fowl flocking down to their marsh nests;
perhaps a crane flopped through the reeds; but Radisson, who had
laughed the nervous fears of the others to scorn, suddenly gave a start
at the lonely sounds of twilight. Then he noticed that his pistols
were water-soaked. Emptying the charges, he at once reloaded, and with
characteristic daring crept softly back to reconnoitre the woods.
Dodging from tree to tree, he peered up and down the river. Great
flocks of ducks were swimming on the water. That reassured him, for
the bird is more alert to alarm than man. The fort was almost within
call. Radisson determined to have a shot at such easy quarry; but as
he crept through the grass toward the game, he almost stumbled over
what rooted him to the spot with horror. Just as they had fallen,
naked and scalped, with bullet and hatchet wounds all over their
bodies, lay his comrades of the morning, dead among the rushes.
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