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Updated: June 3, 2025
In a short time Sam returned and reported that their pursuers were floundering about in a valley several miles away. They had evidently lost the trail, and it would take them some time to find it again. "Will they keep on following us?" Jean asked. "A-ha-ha," Sam replied. "Stop bimeby, mebbe. See?" and he laid his hand upon his musket. "Will you shoot them?" "Mebbe. Bimeby."
There was no opportunity, however, just then as Sam appeared unexpectedly before them. He was much excited, and addressed a few rapid words to his wife. Jean rose to her feet, her face pale with fear. "Are the white men after me?" she asked in a trembling voice. "A-ha-ha." Sam replied. "White man chase babby." "Why?" Jean knew why, but she wanted to hear what the Indian had to say.
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."
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