he could not come, she
would walk down and let her (Margaret) know how her husband was.

Mrs. Godfrey told the squaw where she would find her at ten o'clock the
next morning, and then taking the hand of the Indian woman into that of
her own, looked carefully at the ring, as she bid her good day.

Margaret recognized the ring as the one she had lost during the assault
of the rebels at Grimross, in 1776. She missed it from off her finger
soon after the cross-eyed, monkey-faced rebel "Will," had pulled her
about the floor by the hand, and never saw or heard of it after. Paul
Guidon often said to Mrs. Godfrey, that he believed the rebel "Will" had
stolen her ring.

It was a very valuable one, set with a choice emerald, surrounded by
precious stones. It was presented to Margaret by her father, on the day
he was elected Mayor of Cork, and cost forty-live guineas. It had never
occurred to Margaret, during her conversation with the squaw, to ask her
name.

Mrs. Godfrey said to herself, "This Indian girl may be a daughter of one
of the savages who attacked us at Grimross. Perhaps she has lied to me
and I may never again see her or the ring. I may possibly get some
information to-morrow that will satisfy me. I must wait."

At ten o'clock the next morning a strapping big Indian knocked at the
door of the house where Mrs. Godfrey was lodging, and inquired if "woman
lived there who wanted go in canoe and see sick Injun up river?"

He was informed that there was a lady inside, ready and waiting for a
man named Jim Newall, to take her up the river. "Me Jim," he replied.

Margaret came to the door. She said, "Are you Jim Newall?" "Yes, me Jim
Newall," he answered gruffly.

Margaret asked Jim how far it was to where he had left his canoe. "Just
few steps," he replied. "Down among stumps at water edge." Margaret
accompanied the Indian, and finding out where the canoe was, told Jim to
remain there until she returned, as she wanted to get a few things for
the sick man.

Half an hour later Mrs. Godfrey and a Mrs. Fowler were making their way
by stumps of trees and over branches, with their arms loaded with things
for the sick Indian. They were soon on board, and then Jim Newall
paddled away up stream.

As the canoe slipped along, every spot on the shores seemed familiar to
Margaret's eyes, and many sad thoughts flashed across her mind; memories
of days never to be forgotten rose in her soul. She remarked to Mrs.
Fowler, "How li