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Updated: May 16, 2025
"And when you heard?" asked Helen prompting him as he fell silent. "When I heard, I did not waste time. I made a bee-line for the cabin on the lake, taking the girl with me. I arrived there last night " "How long were you on the way?" interrupted Helen suddenly. "Four days." "And Miskodeed was with you all the time?" "Of course!" answered Ainley a trifle uneasily. "She was our guide."
The trapper's face was hidden in his mittened hands. For a moment Stane hesitated, then he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Jean Bènard," he said quietly, "there is work to do." Bènard rose slowly to his feet, and in the little light reflected from the snow Stane read the grief of the man's heart in his face. "Oui! m'sieu! We must her bury; ma petite Miskodeed." "That, yes!
Impelled by the merest curiosity he had strolled over to the Indian tepees and had there encountered Miskodeed teaching a puppy-dog tricks. He had stopped to speak to her, and was still engaged in a rather one-sided conversation, when the sound of English voices caused him to turn round. The governor's party, accompanied by the factor, was moving towards the tepees.
She saved you for me and she was only an Indian girl." "She had a heart of gold," said Stane. "She came to warn me and then stayed to do what she did!" Both were silent for a long time, the girl thinking of Miskodeed in her flashing beauty, the other of Jean, bent over the cold face of his dead love, and then Helen spoke again. "But tell me!
Our canoe was stolen in the night, and when we took the land-trail my leg was broken and we were delayed, and by the time I was fit for travel, winter was upon us, so we sought the cabin to wait for help. That is the explanation, and now tell me, Miskodeed, is the woman to die?" "The bright-faced one is to be saved alive." "Ah! That is an order?"
Theocritus put the wind-flowers into his Idylls, and Pliny said that only the wind could open them. The Spring beauty has as rich a legend, for it was the Indian Miskodeed, left behind when Peboan, the winter, the Mighty One, was melted by the breath of spring.
Whilst he kept his ears open for any unusual sounds outside the cabin, his mind was trying to probe the mystery behind the attack that, as he was sure, was preparing. Who was the inspirer of it, and why should his death be designed, whilst his companion must be spared? Miskodeed had spoken of the price that was to be paid for the attack rifles and spirit, tea, molasses and blankets.
"It looks quite professional," she said; "there isn't an Indian girl in the North could have done it better." "There isn't one who could have done it half as well," he answered with a laugh. "Are you sure?" she asked quickly. "How about Miskodeed?" "Miskodeed?" he looked at her wonderingly. "Yes, that beautiful Indian girl I saw you talking with up at Fort Malsun." Stane laughed easily.
Our next wild-flower in this region is the Claytonia, or Spring-Beauty, which is common in the Middle States, but here found in only a few localities. It is the Indian Miskodeed, and was said to have been left behind when mighty Peboan, the Winter, was melted by the breath of Spring.
"None," answered Stane, and then told him the facts communicated to him by Miskodeed. "Ah! then, m'sieu, dere ees a white man at zee back of things. Dat Chigmok, he ees no good, he what you call a rotter, but he not dare to do this ting heemself." "That is how I feel," answered Stane. "But how we are to get at the truth of the matter, I do not know." "We weel go to zee encampment.
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