ere was a kind of half religious hilarity in the very
air.

And the autumn was so magnificently beautiful. The great hillsides with
their tracts of timber that looked as if they fenced in the world when
the sun dropped down behind them, but if one threaded one's way through
the dark aisles and came out on the other side there were wonderful
pictures,--small prairies or levels that suggested lakes and then a sort
of avenue stretching out until another was visible, undulating surfaces,
groves of pine, burr oak, and great stalwart hickories, then another
woody ridge, and so on and on through interminable tangles and over
rivers until Lake Michigan was reached. But not many of the habitans, or
even the English, for that matter, had traveled to the other side of the
state. The business journeys called them northward. There were Indian
settlements about that were not over friendly.

Jeanne liked the outside world better. She was not old enough for smiles
and smirks or an interest in fine clothes. So when she said, "Come,
Pani," the woman rose and followed.

"To the tree?" she asked as they halted a little.

"To the big woods," smilingly.

The cottages were many of them framed in with vines and high pickets,
and pear and apple orchards surrounded them, whose seed and, in some
instances, cuttings had been brought from France; roses, too, whose
ancestors had blossomed for kings and queens. Here and there was an oak
turned ruddy, a hickory hanging out slender yellow leaves, or a maple
flaunting a branch of wondrous scarlet. The people had learned to
protect and defend themselves from murderous Indian raids, or in this
vicinity the red men had proved more friendly.

Pierre De Ber came shambling along. He had grown rapidly and seemed
loose jointed, but he had a kindly, honest face where ignorance really
was simplicity.

"You fly over the ground, Jeanne!" he exclaimed out of breath. The day
was very warm for September. "Here I have been trying to catch up to
you--"

"Yes, Mam'selle, I am tired myself. Let us sit down somewhere and rest,"
said Pani.

"Just to this little hillock. Pani, it would make a hut with the
clearing inside and the soft mosses. If you drew the branches of the
trees together it would make thatching for the roof. One could live
here."

"O Mam'selle,--the Indians!" cried Pierre.

Jeanne laughed. "The Indians are going farther and farther away. Now,
Pani, sit down here. Then lean back against this tr