No further trace could be found, by which to follow the cunning fugitive.

Some of the men consoled themselves by saying, without believing, that Long-Hair was probably lying drowned at the bottom of the river.
"Pas du tout," observed Oncle Jazon, his short pipe askew far over in the corner of his mouth, "not a bit of it is that Indian drowned.

He's jes' as live as a fat cat this minute, and as drunk as the devil.

He'll get some o' yer scalps yet after he's guzzled all that brandy and slep' a week." It finally transpired that Oncle Jazon was partly right and partly wrong.

Long-Hair was alive, even as a fat cat, perhaps; but not drunk, for in trying to swim with the rotund little dame jeanne under his arm he lost hold of it and it went to the bottom of the Wabash, where it may be lying at this moment patiently waiting for some one to fish it out of its bed deep in the sand and mud, and break the ancient wax from its neck! Rene de Ronville, after the chase of Long-Hair had been given over, went to tell Father Beret what had happened, and finding the priest's hut empty turned into the path leading to the Roussillon place, which was at the head of a narrow street laid out in a direction at right angles to the river's course.