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He is rich and handsome, you see, and there are many women smiling on him. There were at Mackinaw. The white ladies do not mind a little Indian blood when there is money. But Owaissa is for him, and she will be as grand a lady as the White Queen." Wanita wished in his secret soul Louis Marsac was as grand as the White Chief. But few men were.
Jeanne raised her eyes to the kindly ones. "Oh, yes," she answered with a shiver. "Lake Huron is so large, only there are islands scattered about. But when it grew very dark I simply trusted Wanita." "And he could go in a canoe to the end of the world if it was all lakes and rivers," exclaimed Loudac. "These Indians did you know their tribe?" "I think two were Hurons.
Or remain all night." But Wanita refused with cordial thanks. "Here is the ring;" and Jeanne pressed it in his hand. "And a thousand thanks, tell your brave mistress." With a quick adieu he was gone. "I must find shelter for you to-night, for our lady cannot be disturbed," he said. "Come this way." The bolts and chains were put in place again.
One evening, a little later, two persons were looking out on the lake and the dark hills beyond, and talking in low tones by the rail on the lower deck of the Wanita as she lay at her wharf. A tall man passed down along the shore, and went by without looking round.
She felt afraid the men would question her, perhaps order her back. Two of them were asleep. She tripped down the plank, turned the corner of the dock and saw the clump of trees. Still she hardly dared breathe until she had passed it and found the canoe beached, and a slim young Indian pacing up and down. "Wanita, Wanita!" she exclaimed, timorously. He studied her in surprise.
Jeanne knew that well. Then Wanita asked her about Detroit. He had been up North; his mistress had lived at Mackinaw and St. Ignace. All the spring she had been about Lake Superior, which was grand, and the big lake on the other side, Lake Michigan. Sometimes he had cared for M. Marsac's boat. "M. Marsac was your lady's lover." "Oh, Mam'selle, he was devoted before he went to Detroit.
No saint at the Recollet house was half as fair. "This is the little voyager cast upon our shore, Miladi," explained Loudac with a bow and a touch of his hand to his head. "But Wanita did not wreck her, only left her in our safe keeping until she can be returned to her friends." "Sit here, Mam'selle," and Miladi pointed to a cushion near her. Her French was musical and soft.
"They had left me alone. The beautiful Indian girl was there, and I begged her to save me. I told her my story and she wrapped me in her blanket. We were much the same size, and though I trembled so that my knees bent under me, I went off the boat without any question. Wanita was waiting with the canoe and brought me over." "Were you not afraid and there was no moon?"
Field was pulling to Long's stroke, the wind fluttering his hair in his eyes and the water running down his back, but he would not say anything till Long did. Presently Long looked round over his shoulder, and hailed, "I guess we'd best throw up and get a tow: I hear the Wanita coming down." Presently the little steamer came along and threw them a line. Long caught it and made it fast.
"I will not come in, good Loudac. It is a long way back and my mistress may need me. Here is the maid," and he gave Jeanne a gentle push. "From Detroit?" The interlocutor was a stout Canadian and seemed gigantic to Jeanne. "And 'scaped from the Indians. Lucky they did not spell, it with another letter and leave no top to thy head. Wanita, lad, thou hadst better come in and have a sup of wine.
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