“Make a sort of cave. Oh, you will see,” laughingly. “But let me help,” she cried eagerly. “No, no! Or, if you wish, will you take my knife and cut some pine boughs, the bushiest ones?” He had stuck his dry branch in the sand and piled a few others around it. Renée stood by the fire, much interested. Valbonais tore out the stones until he had a hollow place like a great chair. This he partly filled with the ends of the boughs Wawataysee had gathered. “This will make a bed for you and the child. You will have to sleep sitting up; but you ought to be able to sleep anywhere.” “Oh, look! look!” cried Renée, clapping her hands. “A golden baby moon down there in the sky! Is it not beautiful?” The sky was of deepest azure, the stars mostly to the northwest. One was almost at the point of the crescent, as if lighting each other on the way. “To-morrow or the next night it will be in her arms,” said the young fellow. “A baby star in a cradle,” exclaimed Renée. “Oh, is it not wonderful? What is that?” and she suddenly shrank toward her companions. “Only the cry of some night bird. These clumps of woods are not thick enough to harbor wild animals, thank the saints! Now, ma’m’selle, you sit here and try it.” He had spread a blanket over the pine boughs. She sank gracefully into the seat and leaned back her head with a certain air of luxuriance. “Oh, it is splendid!” in a grateful tone. Renée ran to try. Valbonais stirred out the coals, took a piece of dried fish from his bag and some corn cakes and toasted both. They were hungry enough to eat without any demur—in truth, enjoyed it in the perfect freedom from fear. “Now,” he said, “you must settle yourself for the night. I do not think we shall be molested. The small band will be busy with their chief and repairing damages. Then I found some of them were very superstitious about a woman being in the party.” “But I was held only for the money I would bring Black Feather. Otherwise I would have been looked upon as a useless burden. They dropped off poor Mère Lunde on the way, and yet she could have done them good service. Come, Renée.” “I am not a bit sleepy,” returned Renée. “It seems almost like being at home with no fierce Indians about; only if Uncle Gaspard were here, and M’sieu Marchand,” she was about to add, but checked herself. “We must be up betimes to-morrow and on our way,” Valbonais said. “It will not do to loiter.” “What will you do meanwhile?” inquired Wawataysee. “Sit here and tend the fire,” he said. “I shall only keep enough to see about in case I have to defend myself from any midnight prowler.”