“Give me one of the blankets,” he said, “and send the child out to the back of the tent when you can do so unperceived. Then wrap yourself in the other and steal away. We will take the other side of the strip of woods. It is not wide.” Renée ran out presently and seized his hand. “Oh, are we going back to St. Louis?” she asked in a whisper, while her eyes were alight with joy. “I hope so, little one. Come this way. Now you will not be afraid to stay here. Do not utter a cry or sound. Wrap the blanket about you—so.” Then Valbonais waited and waited. He made one journey to Renée to comfort her. Then he saw Wawataysee struggling through an aperture she had made in the tent, and ran to her assistance. “There were so many of them about,” she said breathlessly. “I pinned the tent flap down with a stout stick, so they may think I am asleep. Oh, let us hurry. I am so afraid,” and she trembled in her excitement, though she ran lightly along. When they reached Renée he picked up the sack of food and slung it over his shoulder, took the gun and one blanket, while Wawataysee wrapped the other about herself, the gray making her more indistinct. Renée, wild with joy, danced and skipped, and could not repress soft gurgles of laughter as she kept on ahead of them. Valbonais found Wawataysee fleet of foot and graceful as a forest nymph. The blanket did not seem to impede her skimming motion. The sense of danger and the thought of freedom inspired her, and hope swelled anew in her breast. Surely the good God would have François in His keeping and let them meet again. CHAPTER X IN THE WILDERNESS The way was tolerably clear for a long distance, though shielded from the view of the Indians by the intervening trees. When the strip of woods failed them for shelter it was growing dusk, and, with the rise of the wind, they could hardly have been distinguished from the waving shrubbery. Valbonais paused and glanced back now and then, but no pursuers were in sight. “Take it a little more moderately,” Valbonais said. “We must not lose sight of the river, or we may go astray. Though we have made a gain by cutting off this point that juts into the stream. Ah, if we only had any kind of a boat!” “They might see us on the river.” “Hardly at night, and not very clear at that. We must make for that dark line ahead of us, a bit of woods where we can camp for the night.” It was quite dark when they reached it, and with some difficulty he made a light. It was largely scrubby pines and the soil was sandy, dry in spite of the tremendous rain, though evidently there had not been as much here. Valbonais found a dead, dry branch of pine, which he lighted, and began to explore. A short distance in was a pile of stones heaped up four or five feet, evidently some burial spot. He glanced at its capabilities, then began tumbling out the smaller ones that seemed to be largely at one side. “What are you going to do?” asked Wawataysee.