ven up to
the tribe that took her under their protection. Yet I wonder a little
that she should choose Louis Marsac. The White Chief, my husband, does
not think him quite true in all his dealings, especially with women. But
if he trifled with her there would be a tragedy."

Jeanne shuddered. The tragedy had come so near.

Miladi asked some questions hard for Jeanne to answer with truth; how
she had come up the lake, and if her captors had treated her well.

"It seems quite mysterious," she said.

Then they talked about Detroit, and Jeanne's past life, and Miladi was
more puzzled than ever.

A slim young Indian woman brought in the baby, a dainty girl of two
years old, who ran swiftly to her mother and began chattering in French
with pretty broken words, and looking shyly at the guest. Then there was
a great shout and a rush as of a flock of birds.

"I beat Gaston, maman, six out of ten shots."

"But two arrows broke. They were good for nothing," interrupted the
second boy.

"And can't Antoine take us out fishing--" the boy stopped and came close
to Jeanne, wonderingly.

"This is Mademoiselle Jeanne," their mother said, "Robert and Gaston.
Being twins there is no elder."

They were round, rosy, sunburned boys, with laughing eyes and lithe
figures.

"Can you swim?" queried Robert.

"Oh, yes," and a bright smile crossed Jeanne's face.

"And paddle a canoe and row?"

"Yes, indeed. Many a time in the Strait, with the beautiful green shores
opposite."

"What strait, Mackinaw?"

"Oh, no. It is the river Detroit, but often called a strait."

"You can't manage a bow!" declared Robert.

"Yes. And fire a pistol. And--run."

"And climb trees?" The dark eyes were alight with mirth.

"Why, yes." Then Jeanne glanced deprecatingly at Miladi, so elegant, so
refined, if the word had come to her, but it remained in the chaos of
thought. "I was but a wild little thing in childhood, and there was no
one except Pani--my Indian nurse."

"Then come and run a race. The Canadians are clumsy fellows."

Robert grasped her arm. Gaston stood tilted on one foot, as if he could
fly.

"Oh, boys, you are too rough! Mam'selle will think you worse than wild
Indians."

"I should like to run with them, Miladi." Jeanne's eyes sparkled, and
she was a child again.

"As thou wilt." Miladi smiled and nodded. So much of the delight of her
soul was centered in these two handsome, fearless boys beloved by their
father. Once she re