u know it was not a _windigo_?"

"Child! child! you set one crazy! It was flesh and blood, a squaw with a
blanket about her and a great bundle in her arms. And I did not go in
the palisade that night. I had come to love Madame and the children, and
it was hard to be shoved out homeless, and with no one to care. There is
fondness in the Indian blood, Mam'selle."

The Indian's voice grew forceful and held a certain dignity. The child
patted her hand and pressed it up to her cheek with a caressing touch.

"The De Bers wanted to buy me, but Madame said no. And Touchas, the
Outawa woman, had bidden me to her wigwam. I heard the bell ring and the
gates close, and I sat down under this very oak--"

"Yes, this is _my_ tree!" interrupted the girl proudly.

"I thought it some poor soul who had lost her brave, and she came close
up to me, so close I heard the beads and shells on her leggings shake
with soft sound. But I could not understand what she said. And when I
would have risen she pushed me back with her knee and dropped something
heavy in my lap. I screamed, for I knew not what manner of evil spirit
it might be. But she pressed it down with her two hands, and the child
woke and cried, and reaching up flung its arms around my neck, while the
woman flitted swiftly away. And I tried to hush the sobbing little
thing, who almost strangled me with her soft arms."

"O Pani!" The girl sprang up and encircled her again.

"I felt bewitched. I did not know what to do, but the poor, trembling
little thing was alive, though I did not know whether you were human or
not, for there are strange shapes that come in the night, and when once
they fasten on you--"

"They never let go," Jeanne laughed gayly. "And I shall never let go of
you, Pani. If I had money I should buy you. Or if I were a man I would
get the priest to marry us."

"O Mam'selle, that is sinful! An old woman like me! And no one can be
bought to-day."

Jeanne gave her another hug. "And you sat here and held me--" forwarding
the story.

"I did not dare stir. It grew darker and all the air was sweet with
falling dews and the river fragrance, and the leaves rustled together,
the stars came out for there was no moon to check them. On the Beaufeit
farm they were having a dance. Susanne Beaufeit had been married that
noon in St. Anne. The sound of the fiddles came down like strange voices
from out the woods and I was that frightened--"

"Poor Pani!" caressing the hand