That dark shadow
she knew to he the figure of a man. An Indian would not be
approaching in such a manner, and she looked again, startled into
a sudden acute attention, and into a belief that the incredible,
the impossible, was about to happen. A voice came from the
figure, and its quality was that of the white voice, not the red.
"Do not move," said that incredible voice out of the unknown. "I
have come for your rescue, and others who have come for the same
purpose are near. Turn on one side, and I will cut the bonds
that hold your arms."
The voice, the white voice, was like the touch of fire to Mary
Newton. A sudden fierce desire for life and for the lives of her
four children awoke within her just when hope had gone the call
to life came. She had never heard before a voice so full of
cheer and encouragement. It penetrated her whole being.
Exhaustion and despair fled away.
"Turn a little on your side," said the voice.
She turned obediently, and then felt the sharp edge of cold steel
as it swept between her wrists and cut the thongs that held them
together. Her arms fell apart, and strength permeated every vein
of her being.
"We shall attack in a few moments," said the voice, "but at the
first shots the Senecas will try to tomahawk you and your
children.
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