t now, but months hence, when I can resolve upon the
step. I shall have to learn--no, you must not touch me, nor kiss me,
until I give you leave."

"But you must let me take your hand once, and promise by the Holy Mother
of God."

His seriousness overawed her. She rose and held out her slim, white
hand, from which the summer's brown had faded. Her lips shook as if with
an ague, but she promised.

He wanted to kiss the hand, but he in turn was overawed.

She heard the voices raised in dissent around the fire. What if they
would not let him go? She was chill and cold, and almost did not care.
She would stay here and die. Perhaps they could take the strange,
awesome journey together.

Wanamee joined her. "Savignon has determined to go to the rescue of the
men," she began, "but De Loie thinks it a crazy step. And we must stay
and risk being made prisoners. What is the matter, _ma fille_? You are
as white as the river foam in a storm."

"I am tired," she made answer. "I slept poorly last night. Then they
think there is no chance of success?"

"Oh, no, no! And we ought to escape."

She dropped down again, pillowing her head on a little rise of ground.
Should she be glad, or sorry? Either way she seemed stunned.

The sky cleared up presently, and the sun came out. The few men walked
about disconsolately. The rations were apportioned, some went farther in
the woods, to find nuts, if possible. Now that the stores had been taken
and two days added to the journey, want might be their portion.

Two of the men succeeded in finding some game. There was a small stream
of water, but no fish were discernible in it. It froze over at night,
but they could quench their thirst, and with some dried pennyroyal made
a draught of tea.

Rose wondered if she had ever prayed before! All she could say now was:
"Oh, Holy Mother of God, have pity on me."

The long night passed. De Loie said in the morning: "I think one of you
had better start with the women. If we should be beset with the savages,
they might find their way home. Here are some points I have marked out."

"No," returned Rose, "let us all perish together."

"_Mon Dieu!_ Do you suppose they would let you perish? You would have to
be squaw to some brave."

Rose shuddered. No, she could but die.

De Loie started out on the path he had come. It was mid-afternoon. A
light snow began to fall, and the wind moaned in the trees. Rose and
Wanamee huddled together at the fire,