She pressed his hand. She was glad to be near a lightsome, courageous human being. Presently she stole back to her bed. Nothing else came to startle them. When she woke again the sun was shining. Valbonais had kindled a fire, shot and dressed some birds and was broiling them before the coals. “Was it a dream,” she asked, “or did you really shoot in the night?” “Yes; and I have taken a part of the fox’s coat. It may be useful for moccasin soles before we are through.” “Poor thing!” she said pityingly. The breakfast was delightful, after the two days of dried fish. Then Renée found a patch of wild strawberries that the birds had not discovered. They were dead ripe and luscious. Now they went on with cheerful hearts, keeping the river in sight, but meeting nothing more alarming than a herd of roaming deer. It was useless to fire at them; birds would be more to the purpose. Toward night they struck a rude cabin, made by hunters, as it did not look like Indian workmanship. There had been a fire, but since that time it had rained. Inside was a table and a bed of dried hemlock branches. “I think we had better stay,” Valbonais announced. “It is a hunter’s cabin, evidently, and no one has been here for some time. There is a little stream of excellent water. We will trust luck, at all events.” They had some supper and were glad of shelter, for it came on to rain, but no such terrific storm as that which had worked such havoc with Black Feather and his party. The soft patter on the leaves was delightful music, though for awhile the rustle of the wind seemed almost like the advance of human beings. It was well they were under shelter, for it rained all the next day. No one came to molest them. Valbonais caught such an excellent supply of fish that he cooked some for the following day. If there was only any ripe fruit! “It was late in May when we left St. Louis,” Wawataysee said. “And now it is June. What day I do not know.” “Let us count back.” But their reckoning was not alike. They forgot, and then recalled incidents that had marked days, then lost count again. Renée was wretchedly tired. “Poor little thing!” exclaimed Wawataysee. “She has been very good and courageous, but it is hard for her. And look at her poor little moccasins—out to the ground.” “Then Mr. Foxskin will serve us a useful purpose. I have nothing to fasten them on with, but can tie them with strips of his skin to-morrow. And yours?” She flushed. Hers were in the same plight. “But I can stand hardships better,” and she smiled cheerfully. Renée slept all the afternoon and woke much refreshed. It had stopped raining, and now they were full of plans for to-morrow. The moon came out—the baby star had travelled nearly across it. “I am glad it is a new moon. We shall have some benefit of it the rest of our journey,” their guide said. “Oh, when shall we get home?” cried Renée impatiently. “Do you suppose there have been any more Indian assaults?”