t is said, she was entertained like a queen. He is very proud of
her and adores her. Ah, if you could see him you would know at once that
he was a grand man. But courageous and high spirited as he is, he is
always counseling peace. There is much bitter feeling still between the
French and English, and now, since the Americans have conquered, the
English are stirring up strife with the Indians, it is said. He advises
them to make homes and settle peaceably, and hunt at the north where
there is still plenty of game. He has bought tracts of land for them,
but my nation are not like the white men. They despise work." Jeanne
knew that well.

Then Wanita asked her about Detroit. He had been up North; his mistress
had lived at Mackinaw and St. Ignace. All the spring she had been about
Lake Superior, which was grand, and the big lake on the other side, Lake
Michigan. Sometimes he had cared for M. Marsac's boat.

"M. Marsac was your lady's lover."

"Oh, Mam'selle, he was devoted before he went to Detroit. He is rich and
handsome, you see, and there are many women smiling on him. There were
at Mackinaw. The white ladies do not mind a little Indian blood when
there is money. But Owaissa is for him, and she will be as grand a lady
as the White Queen."

Wanita wished in his secret soul Louis Marsac was as grand as the White
Chief. But few men were.

And now the twilight was gone and the broad sheet of water was weird,
moving blackness. The canoe seemed so frail, that used as she was to it
Jeanne drew in fear with every breath. If there were only a moon! It was
cold, too. She drew the blanket closer round her.

"Are we almost there?" she inquired.

"Oh, no, Mam'selle. Are you tired? If you could sing to pass away the
time."

Jeanne essayed some French songs, but her heart was not light enough.
Then they lapsed into silence. On and on--there was no wind and they
were out of the strongest current, so there was no danger.

What was Owaissa doing, thinking? Had Louis Marsac returned with the
priest? Was it true she had come to kill her, Jeanne? How strange one
should love a man so deeply, strongly! She shuddered. She had only cared
for quiet and pleasant wanderings and Pani. Perhaps it was all some
horrid dream. Or was it true one could be bewitched?

Sometimes she drowsed. She recalled the night she had slept against the
Huron's knee. Would the hours or the journey ever come to an end? She
said over the rosary and all the pr