two fled to Virginia, where they had an uncle, as Mary afterward learned,
and those who remained were made captives and hurried into the woods. All
day they were obliged to march in single file over the rough, cold soil.
Night found them in the heart of the wilderness, surrounded by their
strange captors, and all the horrors of Indian life or Indian death
staring them in the face. They had no hope of mercy, whether permitted to
live or condemned to die. The mother said to Mary, "My daughter, you, I
think will be permitted to live, but they will deprive you of your father
and mother, and perhaps of your brothers and sisters, so that you will be
alone. But endeavor in all things to please the Indians, and they will be
more kind to you. Do not forget your own language, and never fail to
repeat your catechism and the Lord's prayer every morning and evening
while you live." This she promised to do, and having kissed her child,
the mother was removed from her sight.

Mary must at this time have been ten years of age. She was afterwards
told, when she could understand the Indian language, that they would not
have killed her parents if the captors had not been pursued, and that a
little boy, who was the son of a neighbor, and was also taken, was given
to the French, two of whom were of the party.

In the marches of the Indians it was the custom for one to linger behind,
and poke up the grass with a stick after a party had passed along, to
conceal all traces of their footsteps, so a pursuit was seldom
successful. In deviating from a direct course in order not to get lost,
they noticed the moss upon the trees, which always grows thickest upon
the north side, as the south side being most exposed to the sun, became
soonest dry. They also had some knowledge of the stars, and knew from the
position of certain clusters that were to be seen at certain seasons,
which was east and which west.