He ranged up and down the beach, and presently, when he was close to Robert, he grew more violent than ever, as if he were worked by some powerful mechanism that would not let him rest.

He had all the appearance of one who had gone quite mad, and as he bounded near them, his tomahawk circling about his head, the French guards shrank back, awed, and, at the same time, not wishing to have any conflict with their red allies, who must be handled with the greatest care.
The man paused a moment before the young prisoner, whirled his tomahawk about his head and uttered a ferocious shout.

Robert looked straight into the burning eyes, started violently and then became outwardly calm, though every nerve and muscle in him was keyed to the utmost tension.

"To the lake!" exclaimed the Indian under his breath and then he danced toward the water.
Robert did not know at first what the words meant, and he waited in indecision, but he saw that the care of the guards, owing to the confusion, the fact that the battle was over, and the rejoicing for victory, was relaxed.

It would seem, too, that escape at such a time and place was impossible, and that circumstance increased their inattention.
The youth watched the dancing warrior, who was now moving toward the water, over which the darkness of night had spread.