Jean learned about her defenders' success upon their return to the lodge. She had been anxiously awaiting their coming, and when they did arrive and she saw the booty they carried with them, her heart sank within her. The slashers must all have been slain, so she imagined. When Sam, however, told her what had happened, she was greatly relieved.
"Will they trouble us any more?" she asked.
"No more now," and Sam smiled. "White man head hurt. Sore. Slashers much 'fraid. Go 'way queek."
"Oh, I am so glad," and Jean gave a sigh of relief. She felt quite secure now, and she looked with admiration upon the hardy Indians who had done so much for her. She thanked them, and they were pleased at her words. To see this white girl happy made up somewhat for their disappointment of the night.
The next day the visitors left for their own lodges, so once again Jean and her two companions were alone. The days that followed were busy ones for the Indians. There were many things to do before starting on their long journey overland of which Jean had no idea. First of all, there was a travelling-suit to be made for the white girl. From the cache Sam brought down some soft, tanned caribou skin, and upon this Kitty began to work. Jean watched her with great interest and admiration.
"What do you call that?" she enquired, pointing to the skin. "Will you teach me some of your words? I want to speak Indian."
Kitty looked at the girl and laughed.
"Injun talk hard," she said. "Babby spik Injun, eh?"
"Yes, will you teach me? Now, what do you call this skin?"
"Mu-ka-lip-we-u," was the reply.
"And what is the name of that sinew-thread?"
"Tun-u-wan."
Jean repeated these words, and so well did she speak them that Kitty was much pleased.
"Babby learn queek," she encouraged. "Babby spik all sam' Injun bimeby."
"I am going to learn Indian," Jean declared, "and I want you to tell me the names of many things."
The studying of the Maliseet language was a new pleasure to Jean, and she made excellent progress. She asked the names of various things about the camp, and in a few days she had stored up in her mind quite a stock of words. She now spoke of the fire as "skwut," firewood as "Skwut-o-e-to'tch," the mouth as "hu-ton," eyes as "u-si-suk," hair as "pi-es." There was no end to the words she learned, and both Sam and Kitty vied with each other in teaching her. When Sam brought in a rabbit he would hold it up and say "Ma-tu-kwes," or if a partridge, "se-se-ka-ti-ke-es." Then he would laugh as Jean tried to pronounce the words.
When the ice was firm enough to venture upon, Jean watched Sam as he cut a hole, dropped down a line, and brought forth a fine speckled trout. As the fish flopped about, he exclaimed, "Sko-tum! Sko-tum!"
One day he produced a piece of ash wood, and began to make the frames of a pair of snow-shoes.
"Ha-kum-mul," he said.
"What is that?" Jean asked.
"Snow-shoes for babby. Long trip bimeby."
"What! am I to use them?"
"A-ha-ha. When wast come."
"What is wast?"
"Snow. Plenty bimeby."
When Sam had finished the frames of the snow-shoes, Kitty set at once to work to weave the web of strips of dried caribou skin. Jean was even more interested in this than she had been in the making of her travelling-suit, and she was never tired of watching the woman's skilful fingers as she fashioned the warp and woof upon the frames until the perfect webs were completed. What strong snow-shoes they were, and how graceful! Jean was anxious to try them, and longed for the snow to come.
But during this time of waiting Kitty began the training of the girl for the hard march overland. Every day she would take her into the woods for a walk. At first Jean was quite tired when she returned to the lodge, but ere long she was able to travel much farther, and came back fresh and unwearied. She understood the meaning of these trips, and enjoyed them. The harder she trained the more fitted she would be to contend with the difficulties which lay ahead. Her body thrilled with excitement, and her cheeks glowed with animation whenever she thought of the joy of going home. Seldom were her loved ones out of her mind, and she pictured her father's delight when she opened the door and walked in, clad in her caribou-suit. How the people of the settlement would throng around her, and what a story she would have to tell. She wondered what had become of Dane. She believed that he was frantically searching for her, and the hope dwelt in her heart that he might find her and they would go home together.
After a week of steady training Jean was anxious to begin the journey. When she mentioned this to Sam he shook his head and looked up at the moon which was shining above the tree-tops.
"Pu-sa-nuts se-pa-wun-ok," he said.
Seeing the puzzled expression upon the girl's face, he laughed.
"Beeg snow soon."
"How do you know?"
"Ni-pauk-set--moon-tell Sam."
"How does the moon tell you?"
"Ring round moon, see? Bimeby no moon. Beeg snow."
And in this the Indian was right. Toward morning a wind sprang up and wailed through the forest. When Jean opened her eyes the next morning the trees were swaying beneath a strong nor'easter. The sky was leaden, and the air already flecked with fine snow. In another hour the storm was upon them in full intensity, driving across the lake, and blotting out the opposite shore from view. It beat against the thicket in its frantic efforts to reach the little lodge. To keep out the stray gusts which did occasionally escape the barricade of trees, Sam hung skins and blankets across the two ends of the abode. Thus within all was snug and warm. The fire burned brightly, and the smoke poured up through the wide space overhead. The roar of the storm in the forest sounded like the raging of the sea, and the waving of the tree-tops resembled the rolling and heaving of mighty billows. It was an exciting day to Jean. Never before had she witnessed such a storm. The fiercer it raged, and the more furiously it howled and beat against the sheltering trees, the more delighted she became. From a small opening on the south of the lodge she could see the snow swirling along the shore of the lake and piling up in long drifts against several fallen trees. It was good to be in such a cosy place where she could watch unharmed the trumpeting legions of the great nor'easter.
All through the day the storm continued, and night brought no abatement. It was still raging when Jean curled herself up in her blankets and lay there watching the dancing flames and the two Indians quietly and contentedly smoking on the opposite side of the fire. At length her eyes closed, and lulled by the tempest, she was soon fast asleep.
When she awoke the next morning the sun was shining brightly, and a great peace lay upon forest and lake. It was a new world upon which she opened her eyes, a world of dazzling glory, somewhat akin to the vision vouchsafed to the ancient seer in his lonely island when he beheld a new heaven and a new earth.
Jean was all eagerness now to assay her first venture upon her new snow-shoes. The simple breakfast ended, and clad in her woodland suit, Sam taught her how to arrange the magic slippers upon her moccasined feet. How Dane's heart would have thrilled could he have seen her standing before the lodge, her lithe, supple body drawn to its full height, her face aglow, her eyes sparkling, and her furry cap poised lightly upon her head surrounded by a wealth of soft, billowy hair. The rude lodge, the great trees, and the fair girl standing there formed a scene of surpassing charm which many an artist would have given much to capture.
At first Jean found the walking on the snow-shoes somewhat difficult, and many a tumble did she receive which caused Kitty much amusement. But directed by the Indian woman, she soon overcame her awkwardness and ere long was able to move forward gracefully and rapidly. In two days she was quite an expert, and could even run upon the springing snow-shoes, much to the delight of the two natives.
"Ka-lo-ut. Ka-lo-ut--Good. Good," was Sam's comment as he watched her coming off the lake at the end of the second day of training. "Babby walk all sam' Injun now."
The next morning the Indians began to pack up their few belongings, and Jean was delighted when they told her that at last the long overland journey was to begin. The streams were now frozen, and the travelling good.
"How long will it take us to make the journey?" Jean asked Sam.
"Long tam. Wan moon, mebbe. Two moon, mebbe."
"What! two months?"
"A-ha-ha, mebbe. See bimeby."
It was near mid-day when at last everything was ready and they left the little lodge by the lake and plunged into the forest. A pang of regret smote Jean's heart as she cast a backward glance upon the humble abode. She had spent happy days there, and it had been to her a place of refuge from her pursuers. She knew that she would never see it again. Suppose Dane should come to the lodge and find it deserted!
The journey through the forest was of necessity slow. With a pack upon his back, and drawing a small sled loaded with blankets and food, Sam went ahead and broke the trail. Kitty followed, also carrying a heavy load and the musket. Jean brought up the rear, and she found the walking quite easy owing to the excellent trail beaten down by her thoughtful companions. She had insisted upon carrying something, so a small pack had been made up for her and strapped in Indian fashion across her shoulders. This pleased her, as she felt that she was doing a little, at any rate, to help.
It was a wonderful region through which they moved. Up hill and down, across wild meadows and frozen swamps. Most of the time they travelled through great forest tracts, unharmed as yet by fire or axe. The trees, thick-set and tall, reminded Jean of great masts. A brooding silence reigned in these sombre depths, broken only by an occasional chatter of a surprised squirrel, the whirr of a partridge, or the cheepings of the little chickadees as they hopped from branch to branch. Once during the afternoon they stopped and ate a little of the cooked food Kitty had brought along. Jean was glad of this rest, for notwithstanding the training she had received, she was quite weary. She was most thankful when that evening Sam halted by the side of a little brook, unslung his pack and laid it upon the snow.
"Yut-ku-lo-wut," he said.
"What does that mean?" Jean asked.
"Good camp-place."
Then he turned to his wife.
"Mu-tu-o-to," he said, which the girl knew as the order to build a fire. She was pleased that she understood this command, and it encouraged her to continue the study of the native language.
While Kitty, with Jean's assistance, gathered some dry wood, and lighted the fire, Sam erected a lean-to. Thus by the time darkness enshrouded the land they were ready for the night. It was good to lie down and rest after the march of the day, and Jean soon feel asleep.
Thus for several days they continued their journey, travelling by easy stages. Jean was more accustomed now to the trail, and the stiffness of the first two days had worn away. It was welcome news to her, however, when Sam one night told her that by sundown on the morrow they should be at the big river, the Wu-las-tukw.
"Oh, I am so glad," she fervently replied. Once on the noble St. John it would seem almost home.
The next day they passed through a wonderful forest of great white pines. Never had Jean seen anything like them. They were as straight as arrows, and their tops seemed to her to reach the clouds drifting overhead. Ere long she noticed that many of them bore the axe blaze, and examining more closely, she saw the form of a broad arrow cut deep into the bark. "What is that?" she asked.
"King George arrow," Sam explained. "All King George tree," and he waved his hand in an eloquent gesture. "White man cut'm bimeby."
"Oh, I know," Jean exclaimed as she recalled what Dane had told her. "These are for masts for the King's navy, are they not?"
"A-ha-ha."
"Are there mast-cutters near here?"
"Off dere," and Sam motioned westward.
"Will we see them?"
"No see'm now. Bimeby, mebbe."
"Where are they?"
Sam stopped, stooped and with his forefinger made two parallel lines in the snow several inches apart.
"A-jem-sek," he said, touching the nearer line. "Wu-las-tukw," and he touched the other. He next placed his finger between the two. "White man here," he explained. "Plenty King George tree."
"Is A-jem-sek a river?" Jean asked.
"A-ha-ha."
"Will we soon be there?"
"Wan sight, mebbe."
Jean had learned that these Indians measured short distances according to sight, and that they said "one sight," "two sights," "three sights," instead of miles. She now knew that the A-jem-sek, whatever that river might be, was not far away, and that it must be a branch of the St. John. And between the two, farther on, were the King's mast-cutters. Her hopes rose high. How good it would be to see white men she could trust. They would help her to reach home, she felt certain.
They were moving down a gentle slope now, and making fair progress. Suddenly Sam stopped, and examined strange straggling tracks in the snow. Kitty and Jean also looked, the latter asking what they meant.
"White man," Sam explained. "No snow-shoe."
"Are they slashers?" Jean anxiously enquired.
Sam shook his head, and examined the tracks more closely.
"No slasher, no snow-shoe," he said. "Funny track, all sam' lost."
As they proceeded, they came across other tracks, showing where men had been walking through the snow, wandering here and there, in an apparently aimless manner. Sam became very curious now, as well as cautious. He took the musket from Kitty, and carried it in readiness for any emergency. Jean was quite excited, and peered keenly ahead, not knowing what to expect next.
Except for the creaking of the snow-shoes, not a sound did they make as they sped onward, and in about half an hour the trees seemed suddenly to part and present an open space to their view. It was the A-jem-sek, a narrow stream connecting Lake K'tchi-kwis-pam with the Wu-las-tukw, so Sam explained to Jean. As they stepped out upon this river they saw two men but a short distance away, drawing a small sled loaded with wood, who stared with startled amazement at the sudden appearance of the three travellers.