She also remembered Dane's peculiar manner
when she had mentioned his father. Her interest and curiosity were now
aroused more than ever. There must be some mystery connected with
Dane's father, she felt certain. She longed to know, and hoped to find
out something from this woman. There was no opportunity, however, just
then as Sam appeared unexpectedly before them. He was much excited,
and addressed a few rapid words to his wife. Jean rose to her feet,
her face pale with fear.

"Are the white men after me?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"A-ha-ha." Sam replied. "White man chase babby."

"Why?"

Jean knew why, but she wanted to hear what the Indian had to say.

"White man find Seff dead by ribber. White man act funny, much 'fraid.
Bimeby find babby gone. White man much mad."

He paused, picked up his musket which he had laid aside, and examined
the priming.

"Did you see them?" Jean asked.

"A-ha-ha. Sam see'm. White man no see Sam."

"Are they coming this way?"

"A-ha-ha."

"Will you shoot them?"

"Sam shoot bimeby, mebbe. White man no ketch babby."

Of this Jean had no doubt. What a tower of strength this Indian seemed
to her just then. The day before she had given up all hope of earthly
aid, yet here was one, and a native at that, who was ready to protect
her. How wonderful it all appeared. And it was against men of her own
race he would defend her. Of the savage Indian she had heard and read
much. But here were two of the despised race putting white men to
shame.

In the meantime the Indian woman had been very busy. She had gathered
the few cooking utensils together, and was now rolling up the blankets
and skins. Presently Sam assisted her, and in a remarkably short time
they were ready for their journey.

Jean begged to be allowed to carry something, but Sam shook his head as
he pointed to her shoulders and feet.

"No strong," he said. "Feet leetle. Bimeby Injun pack babby, mebbe,
eh?"

"Oh, I hope not," the girl smilingly replied. "I must walk to-day."

With their packs strapped upon their backs, Sam picked up his musket,
and Kitty the axe. With a final glance around to see that nothing was
overlooked, Sam led the way among the trees, with Jean following, and
Kitty bringing up in the rear.

All through the afternoon they pressed forward along the silent forest
ways. Occasionally the Indians halted that the girl might rest. Their
care of her was remarkable, an