When she was at the bayou's edge she stood there, and shouted for help as if a life depended upon it:-- "Oh, P'tit Maitre! P'tit Maitre! Venez donc! Au secours! Au secours!"No voice responded.Cheri's hot tears were scalding her neck.She called for each and every one upon the place, and still no answer came.
She shouted, she wailed; but whether her voice remained unheard or unheeded, no reply came to her frenzied cries.And all the while Cheri moaned and wept and entreated to be taken home to his mother.
La Folle gave a last despairing look around her.Extreme terror was upon her.She clasped the child close against her breast, where he could feel her heart beat like a muffled hammer.Then shutting her eyes, she ran suddenly down the shallow bank of the bayou, and never stopped till she had climbed the opposite shore.
She stood there quivering an instant as she opened her eyes.Then she plunged into the footpath through the trees.
She spoke no more to Cheri, but muttered constantly, "Bon Dieu, ayez pitie La Folle! Bon Dieu, ayez pitie moi!"Instinct seemed to guide her.When the pathway spread clear and smooth enough before her, she again closed her eyes tightly against the sight of that unknown and terrifying world.
A child, playing in some weeds, caught sight of her as she neared the quarters.The little one uttered a cry of dismay.
"La Folle!" she screamed, in her piercing treble."La Folle done cross de bayer!"Quickly the cry passed down the line of cabins."Yonda, La Folle done cross de bayou!"Children, old men, old women, young ones with infants in their arms, flocked to doors and windows to see this awe-inspiring spectacle.Most of them shuddered with superstitious dread of what it might portend."She totin' Cheri!" some of them shouted.