They rounded the point, the Père talking earnestly, but the canoe so far away I could not overhear his words. Cassion paid small heed to what he urged, but, at last, angrily bade him be still, and, after a glance into the narrow basin beyond, swung the bow of the canoe about, and headed it southward, the return course further off shore. The Indians paddled with renewed energy, and, in a few moments, they were so far away their faces were indistinguishable, and I ventured to sit on the bank, my gaze still on the vanishing canoe. So intent was I that I heard no sound of approaching footsteps, and knew nothing of De Artigny's presence until he spoke. "What is that yonder--a canoe?" I started, shrinking back, suddenly realizing what I had done, and the construction he might place upon my action. "Yes," I answered faintly, "it--it is a canoe." "But it is headed south; it is going away," he paused, gazing into my face. "Did it not come this far?" I hesitated; he had furnished me with an excuse, a reason. I could permit him to believe the boat had not approached close enough to be signaled. It was, for an instant, a temptation, yet as I looked into his eyes I could not tell the lie. More, I felt the uselessness of any such attempt to deceive; he would discover the fire extinguished by dirt thrown on it, and thus learn the truth. Far better that I confess frankly, and justify my action. "The canoe came here," I faltered, my voice betraying me. "It went around the point yonder, and then returned." "And you made no signal? You let them go, believing us dead?" I could not look at him, and I felt my cheeks burn with shame. "Yes, Monsieur; but listen. No, do not touch me. Perhaps it was all wrong, yet I thought it right. I lay here, hidden from view, and watched them; I extinguished the fire so they could not see the smoke. They came so near I could hear their voices, and distinguish their words, yet I let them pass." "Who were in the canoe?" "Besides the Indians, Cassion, Père Allouez, and the soldier Descartes." "He was with me." "So I learned from his tale; 'twas he who sought to lift me from the water, and failed. Do you realize, Monsieur, why I chose to remain unseen? Why I have done what must seem an unwomanly act?" He was still gazing after the canoe, now a mere speck amid the waste of waters, but turned and looked into my face. "No, Madame, yet I cannot deem your reason an unworthy one--yet wait; could it be fear for my life?" "It was that, and that only, Monsieur. The truth came to me in a flash when I first perceived the canoe approaching yonder. I felt that hate rather than love urged Cassion to make search for us. He knew of your attempt at rescue, and if he found us here together alone, he would care for nothing save revenge. He has the power, the authority to condemn you, and have you shot. I saw no way to preserve your life, but to keep you out of his grip, until you were with your friends at Fort St. Louis."