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"I wish you would," Jean replied as she seated herself upon the rugs and furs. "I want to know." The Indian woman threw a couple of sticks upon the fire, and then faced the girl. She reached out and touched the little arrow-brooch with the forefinger of her right hand. "Dane geeve babby dat, eh?" she asked. "Why, yes, how did you know that?" "Injun know much," and the woman smiled as she spoke.
A woman was standing there, and Jean recognised her immediately as the one she had met that afternoon, and who had examined the little arrow-brooch. She glanced quickly at her rescuer, and knew him, too. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Never were friends more welcome. Near the fire was a brush lean-to, and gently the Indian laid the girl down upon some soft furs and blankets.
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