Pierre, knowing that the house would soon be
in flames, made haste to wrap the child in a thick blanket. He saw
that beneath the window there was a shed with a sloping roof, by which
he could easily reach the ground. He waited a few moments, with the
child in his arms, covered as much as possible by his blanket, and so
held as to look like a roll of booty. When the smoke once more blew in
a stifling volume past the window, Pierre stepped out upon the roof with
his precious burden, dropped to the ground, and made haste away in the
direction of the least glare and tumult.
As he was stealing past a small cottage just burst into blaze, two of the
raiders stepped in front of him. Pierre's heart sank, but he grasped his
hatchet, and a sort of hunted but deadly look gleamed in his eyes. The men
didn't offer to stop him, but one cried:
"What have you there?"
As he spoke Pierre recognized them for two of the Acadians, and his fears
ceased.
"It's a child I'm saving," he whispered. "Don't say anything about it."
"Good boy!" chuckled the singular marauders; and Pierre hastened on,
making for a wood near by.
Ere he could reach that shelter, however, Fate once more confronted him
in the shape of a tall Micmac, whom Pierre recognized as one of the
subchiefs of the tribe, a nephew of Cope. The chief, supposing Pierre was
carrying off something very rich in the way of booty, stopped him and
demanded a share. Pierre protested, declaring it was all his. When
he spoke the savage recognized him, and having a lofty contempt for one
who was both an Acadian and a mere boy, coolly attempted to snatch the
bundle from his arms.
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