“Wait a moment.” Valbonais picked up the blanket and strapped his gun to his back, convoying them over safely and depositing them on the ground. “I wonder if we dare trust the child?” “Oh, I think so. It is such a step,” Wawataysee answered. He went back to her. “You will not be afraid, little one? You can run swiftly, and if you can keep a steady head——” “Yes, yes!” Wawataysee stood with outstretched arms and smiled. Renée started with a child’s audacity. The round logs, instead of the flat surface, confused her and she hesitated, lost her balance and went down with a cry. Valbonais sprang into the creek, but missed his first grasp of her. The next brought her safely up and Wawataysee took her, frightened and half strangled. Valbonais shook himself and laughed. “I would rather the clothes had not taken a bath. And she is wet, but not injured.” “It slipped and rolled,” the child began, “and then I couldn’t keep on. Oh, dear! I am all dripping.” “Roll her in a blanket. I am sorry it is so near dark and we cannot tell quite which way to go.” “We must keep on toward the Illinois,” said Wawataysee. “Oh, and now I think we came up a creek to the Peorias’ lodge. What if this should be the stream? Then we are nearer home than I thought.” Her eyes shone like stars, her voice was freighted with joy, for her thought was an inspiration. “I do not see how we could have gone out of the way,” he returned, knitting his brows. “The river winds. We may have shortened our journey a little by it. And if we could find the lodge! Oh, I can’t help feeling that we are all right!” She was wringing Renée’s garments and rubbing her with a blanket. Valbonais pressed the water out of his, and tried to catch the inspiration. “Now we must go on. Renée, you must keep the blanket about you,” the elder said. “But it is so warm. I am most smothered.” “It will be cooler presently,” in a consoling tone. “And I am so hungry!” she said, half crying. They had eaten nothing since morning. “We are all hungry. And if we can find those kindly Indians they will give us a feast.” “I hope she is right.” Valbonais thought. They walked briskly onward for a while. The moon came up and shed its silver radiance, setting the little stream with gems and showering the trees with her effulgent flood. But to-night they could not enjoy it—could hardly keep hope alive. “I am so tired!” Renée began to cry in earnest and stopped short. The reaction had come and she shivered with a chill. Her slight frame was in a collapse. “I will carry her,” said Valbonais. “We shall get along faster.” Wawataysee took the other blanket and the gun. The summer night was growing chilly here at the edge of the creek. They waded through the other stream. Renée’s head drooped on the man’s shoulder. She had forgotten her troubles in sleep. But presently he had to pause with his burden. “Let us sit here and rest awhile. And if you could sleep an hour it would refresh you so much.”