ssion life. She was cleaner
than most of the Indians, and was not unattractive. She came to them
without hesitation.

"I am Tegakwita's sister. My name is Mary; the Fathers at the Mission
gave it to me."

Menard hardly gave her a glance, but Mademoiselle was interested.

"That is not your Indian name?" she asked.

"Yes,--Mary."

"Did you never have another?"

"My other name is forgotten."

"These Mission girls like to ape our ways," said Menard, in French.

The girl looked curiously at them, then she untied a fold of her
skirt, and showed a heap of strawberries. "For the white man's squaw,"
she said.

Mademoiselle blushed and laughed. "Thank you," she replied, holding
out her hands. The girl gave her the berries, and turned away. Menard
looked up as a thought came to him.

"Wait, Mary. Do you know where the young white chief is?"

"Yes. He tried to run away. He cannot run away from our warriors."

"Are you afraid to go to him?"

"My brother, Tegakwita, is guarding him. I am not afraid."

Menard went to a young birch tree that stood near the hut, peeled off
a strip of bark, and wrote on it:--

"If you try to escape again you will endanger my plans. Keep your
patience, and I can save you."

"Will you take him some berries, and give him this charm with them?"

She took the note, rolled it up with a nod, and went away. Menard saw
the question in Mademoiselle's eyes, and said: "It was a warning to be
cool. Our hope is in getting the good-will of the chiefs."

"Will they--will they hurt him, M'sieu?"

"I hope not. At least we are still alive and safe; and years ago,
Mademoiselle, I learned how much that means."

The maid looked into the trees without replying. Her face had lost
much of its fulness, and only the heavy tan concealed the worn
outlines. But her eyes were still bright, and her spirit, now that the
first shock had passed, was firm.

Father Claude returned, after a time, with a heavy face. He drew
Menard into the hut, and told him what he had gathered: that the Long
Arrow and his followers were planning a final vengeance against
Captain Menard. All the braves knew of it; everywhere they were
talking of it, and preparing for the feasting and dancing.

"They will wait until after the fighting, won't they?"

"No, M'sieu. It is planned to begin soon, within a day or two."

"Have you inquired for the Big Throat?"

"He is five leagues away, at the next village. We can hardly hope for
help