erin and Perrot were patching the canoe under Menard's eye,
Danton found some dry logs under the brush, and built up the dying
fire, which was in a rocky hollow, not visible from the river. Then he
and the maid sat on the rocks above it, where they could get the
warmth, and yet could see the river. Menard and his men, though only a
few rods away, were but blurred forms as they moved about the canoe,
gumming the new seams.

The maid, save for an occasional heavy hour in the late evenings, had
settled into a cheerful frame of mind. The novelty, and the many
exciting moments of the journey, as well as the kindness of the three
men, kept her thoughts occupied. Danton, once he had shaken off his
sulky fits, was good company. They sat side by side on the rock,
looking down at the struggling fire, or at the figures moving about
the canoe, or out into the white mystery of the river, talking easily
in low tones of themselves and their lives and hopes.

The mist, instead of rising, seemed to settle closer to the water, as
the broad daylight came across the upper air. The maid and Danton fell
into silence as the picture brightened. Danton was less sensitive than
she to the whims of nature, and tiring of the scene, he was gazing
down into the fire when the maid, without a word, touched his arm. He
looked up at her; then, seeing that her eyes were fixed on the river,
followed her gaze. Not more than a score of yards from the shore,
moving silently through the mist, were the heads of three Indians.
Their profiles stood out clearly against the white background; their
shoulders seemed to dissolve into the fog. They passed slowly on up
the stream, looking straight ahead, without a twitch of the eyelids,
like a vision from the happy hunting-ground.

Danton slipped down from the rock, and stepped lightly to Menard,
pointing out the three heads just as they were fading into the
whiteness about them. Menard motioned to Guerin and Perrot to get the
newly patched canoe into the water, took three muskets, and in a
moment pushed off, leaving Danton with the maid and the priest, who
had retired a short distance for his morning prayers. For a minute the
heads of the three white men were in sight above the fog, then they
too were swallowed up.

"I wonder what Menard thinks about them?" said Danton, going back
toward the maid.

She was still looking at the mist, and did not hear him, so he took a
seat at the foot of the rock and rubbed the ha