The birds had begun to sing just after three o’clock that clear morning, for Celeste lying awake heard them; and they were keeping it up in the bushes.  Gabriel leaned his feathered head over the road, listening for hoof-falls and watching for the first puff of dust in the direction of Prairie du Pont.  The road was not as well trodden as it is now, and a little ridge of weeds grew along the centre, high enough to rake the stirrup of a horseman.

But in the distance, instead of the pat-a-pat of iron hoofs began a sudden uproar of cries and wild whoops.  Then a cloud of dust came in earnest.  Claudis Beauvois alone, without any hat, wild with fright, was galloping towards Cahokia.  Gabriel understood that something had happened which ruined his own plan.  He and his men sprung on their horses and headed off the fugitive.  The bridegroom who had passed that way so lately with smiles, yelled and tried to wheel his horse into the brush; but Gabriel caught his bridle and demanded to know what was the matter.  As soon as he heard the French tongue spoken he begged for his life, and to know what more they required of him, since the rest of their band had already taken his bride.  They made him tell them the facts.  The real Puants had attacked the wedding procession before it was out of sight of Prairie du Pont, and had scattered it and carried off Celeste.  He did not know what had become of anybody except himself, after she was taken.

Gabriel gave his horse a cut which was like a kick to its rider.  He shot ahead, glad to pass what he had taken for a second body of Indians, and Le Maudit Pensonneau hooted after him.

“The miserable coward.  I wish I had taken his scalp.  He makes me feel a very good Puant indeed.”

“Who cares what becomes of him?” said Gabriel.  “It is Celeste that we want.  The real Puants have got ahead of us and kidnaped the bride.  Will any of you go with me?”

The poor fellow was white as ashes.  Not a man needed to ask him where he was going, but they all answered in a breath and dashed after him.  They broke directly through the thicket on the opposite side of the road, and came out into the tall prairie grass.  They knew every path, marais, and rigole for miles around, and took their course eastward, correctly judging that the Indians would follow the line of the bluffs and go north.  Splash went their horses among the reeds of sloughs and across sluggish creeks, and by this short cut they soon came on the fresh trail.

At Falling Spring they made a halt to rest the horses a few minutes, and wash the red and yellow paint off their hands and faces; then galloped on along the rocky bluffs up the Bottom lands.  But after a few miles they saw they had lost the trail.  Closely scouting in every direction, they had to go back to Falling Spring, and there at last they found that the Indians had left the Bottom and by a winding path among rocks ascended to the uplands.  Much time was lost.  They had heard, while they galloped, the church bell tolling alarm in Cahokia, and they knew how the excitable inhabitants were running together at Beauvois’ story, the women weeping and the men arming themselves, calling a council, and loading with contempt a runaway bridegroom.