With a mingled feeling of anxiety and relief Jean watched the Loyalists and rangers march forth against the rebels. She had no doubt as to the outcome of the undertaking, but she felt uneasy about her father, and how he would stand the journey. On the other hand, she cherished the thought that on the morrow Dane would be with her, and all would be well.
For a while she stood in the doorway, looking out upon the river over which the mantle of night had settled. Mammy was crooning to the Indian baby before the fire. It was an old darky lullaby, and the faithful servant had sung it to her when she was a child. It brought back memories of her youthful days, which now seemed so long ago and like a dream.
"Doan stan' dere, chile," Mammy at length reminded. "Yo'll get yo' deff a col'."
Jean turned, picked up a shawl and threw it over her head.
"I am going to run over to see Mrs. Watson for a while," she said. "Danny was not well to-day, so I am anxious to know how he is getting along. With her husband away, Mrs. Watson must be very lonely tonight."
Mrs. Watson was greatly pleased to see the girl, and offered her a seat near the fire.
"How is Danny?" Jean asked.
"He is much better, I think, and is sleeping soundly," the mother replied, as she stole on tip-toe to the side of the rough cradle, and looked down fondly upon the little white face. "John was so sorry to go away with the baby sick," she continued, coming back to the fire. "I do hope there will be no fighting. Suppose some of our men should be killed!"
"I have great confidence in the rangers, and Mr. Davidson told me that not likely there would be any fighting," Jean comforted. "I believe he has some plan to entrap the rebels."
"Let us hope that he is right," and Mrs. Watson sighed as she rose and placed a big stick upon the fire. "How cold the nights are getting. I wonder how we shall manage through the winter."
"We have plenty of wood, anyway, Mrs. Watson, and so should keep warm. And we have enough meat to last us for months. When the
Polly brings our supplies, we shall have an abundance of everything."
"I wonder what can be keeping that boat, Jean. We expected her before this. I hope Captain Leavitt has not forgotten us."
"He will come in time, never fear. We should have news, too, from our old home. How strange it is to be shut off for months with no communication with the great world beyond."
"It is like being buried live, dear. And just think of the long winter ahead, with snow and ice everywhere."
"But we shall make our little world right here, Mrs. Watson. I am looking forward to the winter. We are going to have a cosy, happy time, and lots of fun at Christmas. The children are talking about it already, and I know that wonderful presents are being made. I have been working at mine for some time, and I suppose you will have something for Danny."
Mrs. Watson smiled as she rose and took down a little basket from a rude shelf on the wall. From this she brought forth several little home-made articles, and laid them in Jean's lap.
"John is handy with his knife," she explained, "and made this boat, horse, and cart. He is going to make something else when he gets time. I made that doll out of some odds and ends, and John carved the head. We shall also make some molasses candy of funny shapes. Danny will be delighted. Poor little fellow, he talks so much about Santa Claus, and the things he is going to get."
"I am sure he will not be disappointed," Jean replied, as she examined each present. "You and Mr. Watson have done remarkable work."
For some time they sat and talked before the fire, and when Jean at last rose to go, Mrs. Watson looked at her with admiration.
"This life certainly agrees with you," she said. "I never saw you look better. And you are the envy of all the girls, too. I do not wonder at that."
Jean blushed, for she knew very well to what the woman referred.
"If they envy me, they never show it," was the cheery reply. "They are as kind and sweet to me as can be."
"They couldn't be anything else, dear. They would give worlds to be engaged to a young man like Dane Norwood, and to wear such a brooch as the one he gave you. All the girls look upon him as a hero."
In order to hide her embarrassment, Jean kissed Mrs. Watson and left the house. It was dark outside, but she did not mind this as she had often come that same way alone at night. In fact, no sense of fear entered her mind, for she was thinking of the words she had Just heard. As she raised her right hand and touched the Love-Token at her throat, a feeling of joy thrilled her heart. She recalled the day it had been given to her, and Dane's avowal of love. To-morrow he would be with her again, and her happiness would be complete.
She had gone but half way home when, without the slightest warning, she was seized by strong arms, a big hand was placed over her mouth, and she was borne bodily away. Desperately she struggled to free herself, and made frantic attempts to call for help. But her efforts were all in vain, for those entwining arms held her fast, and that hand still pressed firmly her mouth. At length she ceased her struggles, for a great terror rendered her limp and helpless. She knew that she was being carried through the bushes toward the river. After that she remembered no more until she found herself lying in the bottom of a canoe which was being driven through the water at a great speed. With a startled cry, she raised her head and looked around. Dark though it was, she could dimly see the forms of two men swaying strongly at their paddles.
"Where am I?" she asked in a trembling voice. "What are you going to do with me?"
For a few seconds there was intense silence. Then the men spoke to each other, and although Jean could not understand what was said, she knew from the deep guttural words that her captors were Indians. After a brief conversation, nothing more was said, and the girl had not the heart to question further.
Her fears were now greatly increased. She had heard of people being carried off by Indians, and tales of cruelty and insult worse than death lingered in her mind. What was the fate in store for her? Why had the Indians carried her off? She had not harmed them. The more she thought, the more puzzled she became. She shivered as she sat crouched there. The night was cold, and the wind piercing as it whipped across the water. For protection she drew around her shoulders a blanket which had been placed over her body when she was unconscious. That the Indians must have done this was a faint ray of light in the darkness of her despair. There must be some spark of feeling in their savage hearts, at any rate. She longed to see their faces. Were they hard and brutal, or did they exhibit some signs of friendliness? She thought of Dane and Pete. How soon they would hasten to her assistance if they knew of her trouble. But how would they know where she was? She pictured the consternation of all, and the grief of her father and Dane upon their return home. She knew how the latter would spare no efforts to find her. And her poor father! A moan escaped her lips as she thought of his agony of soul. She looked wildly around, but only the blackness of night could she see. Her eyes sought the stars. How far away and cheerless were those twinkling lights. What did they care for her troubles?
And as she looked, there came into her mind the opening lines of one of the psalms, "Unto Thee lift I up mine eyes, O Thou that dwellest in the heavens." How often she had heard those words at church, but never until now had they meant comfort and hope. They were a light to her in her darkness. There was One who could and would help and to Him alone she must now turn. Bowing her head, she appealed to Him, and asked Him to watch over her, to keep her from all dangers, and to take her safely back home.
A sense of security such as she had never before known possessed her. A great presence seemed near, overshadowing her, and giving her a new strength and courage. Despair was replaced by hope, and she felt that she could face the future with confidence. No longer did the stars seem cheerless. Instead, they were eyes smiling down upon her, telling her to be brave, that the One who guided them in their course would not forsake her. She determined not to lament. She would show the Indians that a white girl could suffer and be strong.
Slowly the dawn of a new day edged into the night, and the stars faded one by one. Jean could see her captors now quite distinctly. They were great stalwart natives, whose faces betrayed neither friendliness nor hostility. They never even glanced at her, but seemed entirely bent upon their work.
As the sun was about to appear above the tree-tops, the steersman headed the canoe for the shore. After they had landed, a small fire was started, and a kettle containing cooked meat was placed over the flames. Jean watched with interest all that was going on around her. This seemed to surprise the Indians, and when she pointed to the kettle, their faces relaxed into the faint semblance of a smile. Presently one of the men dipped a cup into the kettle and handed it to the girl. She took it, not without some hesitation, and after it had cooled a little, placed it to her lips. It tasted good, so she drank it all. The Indian next thrust a sharpened stick into the kettle, and brought forth a piece of the partridge which he placed in her cup. This was tender, and Jean enjoyed it as much as she did the broth. It brought a renewal of strength to her body, and she felt less weary.
Breakfast ended, the Indians took their few dishes to the water, washed and scoured them with sand, and left them upon a big stone for the sun to dry. The cleanliness of these natives was a surprise to Jean, and this touch of civilisation gave her some encouragement. She had often heard of the uncouth Indians, but here were men who could put many white people to shame.
For about two hours they remained there, and while the Indians dozed in the sun, Jean walked up and down the shore, or sat upon a rock looking out over the water. It was a beautiful morning, with not a breath of wind astir, and the mirror-like river reflected the great trees along its border. Where she was she had no idea. That she was some distance inland she felt certain. But how far? Whither was she bound? and what were the Indians going to do with her? Over and over again she vainly asked herself these questions as she gazed pensively out over the water.
All through the morning they continued on their way, and only stopped once to rest and to eat a hurried meal. Then on again, hour after hour, with nothing to break the monotony of vast forests crowding to the very shores. The river was quite narrow now, and very crooked. This led Jean to imagine that they were nearing the headwaters of the St. John, for never once had she suspected that they were ascending one of its tributaries. She was weary, and her body ached from her cramped position. It seemed an age since she had last slept in her own little bed far away. At times during the day her eyes had closed through drowsiness, but she had always aroused with a start. She felt that she must keep awake until night, at least--and what then?
At length, rounding a bend, her eyes rested upon two people standing upon the shore not far ahead. That they were Indians, a man and a woman, she could easily tell. Her captors saw them, too, so they ran the canoe close to where they were standing, and began to converse with them in the native language. That they were talking about her Jean was fully aware, for at times the woman looked at her in a manner not at all unfriendly. They seemed to be disputing about something, and their voices grew quite loud, and their words most emphatic.
Presently the woman stepped up close to the canoe, reached out and touched the little brooch at the girl's throat. "Su-wan! Su-wan!" she exclaimed. After examining it most carefully, she turned upon the captors and addressed them in an angry manner. They merely grunted at what she said, and pushing the canoe from the shore, once more continued on their way. Jean longed to know what had been said, and the meaning of the woman's sudden interest in the little arrow. She looked back several times and saw the two still standing upon the shore. When another bend hid them from view, a great loneliness swept upon her. She felt that those two were friendly, and had rebuked her captors for what they were doing.
For about another hour they pushed forward, the river becoming narrower all the time. Suddenly before them appeared several Indian lodges, entirely covered with great strips of birch bark. The place was evidently deserted, for no sign of life was to be seen. Here the canoe was run ashore, and landing made for the night.
Supper over, one of the Indians handed the captive a blanket, and motioned to the nearest lodge. Jean understood his meaning, took the blanket, and did as she was bidden. The lodge was empty, so placing the blanket upon the ground, she sat down and watched the Indians through the opening which served as a door. A few minutes later her captors pushed off their canoe, stepped lightly on board and started down the river. With fast-beating heart the girl watched them until they had disappeared from view. Then a terrible feeling of desolation came upon her. She was in the wilderness, alone, with untold dangers surrounding her. Had they deserted her? Had the Indians brought her there to perish? The thought was horrible. What had she done to deserve such a fate? With straining eyes she watched the river, hoping to see the Indians return. But night again shut down and they did not come. Certain was she now that they had left her to die. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed out her grief, the first time since her capture. She had tried to be brave, but in all her imaginings she had never dreamed of such a fate as this.
And as she cowered there in the night, listening fearfully to every sound around her, the canoe, bearing her two captors stole noiselessly by, and sped onward through the darkness. The grief and loneliness of the girl meant little to them. Their work was done, they had received their reward, and far off around various camp fires they would relate to their own people the tale of the pale face captive girl.