“I wish to speak to you for a moment,” he replied, in the same tone. She rose and followed him to the river side, where she sat down on a fallen log and he took a position a few feet away, regarding her earnestly. “You wonder what I can have to say to you,” he said. “In the first place, give me your promise not to reveal it to a living soul. It applies to this Bentley Morris.” Without thought, never dreaming that the purport of what he had to say could in any way apply to her, she gave the required promise. “You must know that I am a man whom the bad fortune of life has pressed to the earth. Time was when my family stood high in rank and wealth. That time has gone by, and step by step I have been forced down, until I own not a foot of land in all the world. What of that? I am Jules Damand yet, and will carve out a way to fortune with my own right arm.” “I am sorry for you,” she said. “Is this what you have to say? I hope you may succeed.” “It is the prelude only,” he answered. “I wish to make you understand that, though you find me a poor voyageur and trapper, I am still equal in rank to yourself.” She was silent now. A woman of quick wit, she saw at once toward what he tended, and knew no way to stop him. She was not astonished when he went on: “I love you, and wish to make you my wife.” She was on her guard immediately. “You do me too much honor, Mr. Damand. It seems to me that the few days we have been acquainted are hardly sufficient to warrant you in taking this step. You will excuse me.” “Not without an answer.” “It seems to me there is but one answer. I must decline your proposal,” she answered, firmly. “I supposed as much. That is nothing. I am prepared for any thing. What if I tell you I have a way of compelling you to accede to my demand?” “If you were to tell me so, I think I should say you told a falsehood.” “Then I should feel called upon to prove my words true. In the first place, then, you have a sort of feeling for the young person known as Bentley Morris. What if I were to tell you that his fate depends in a great measure upon you?” “How can that be? He is in the hands of the Blackfeet.” “I am aware of it. Yet I am ready to attest upon oath that I have the power of freeing him from captivity, or at least of saving him from death. I am rather inclined to the opinion that they will roast him. I should be sorry to have that done, really, as I have nothing against the young gentleman, except the penchant you have for him, which is not _his_ fault, poor fellow. Be merciful. Save him from this dreadful fate.” “You are a wretch. I suspected you all along, and now I am sure of it. You are in league with the Indians.” “Ah; you have great penetration.” “When father Ben returns I will inform him of this.” “You forget. You are pledged not to say a word. Remember that.” “You entrapped me into a promise which I ought to break,” she answered.