However we must have made excellent progress, for the sun had not entirely disappeared when we emerged from the dark wood shadows into a narrow, grassy valley, through which flowed a silvery stream, not broad, but deep. Assured that this must be the water we sought, I sank to the ground, eager for a moment's rest, but De Artigny, tireless still, moved back and forward along the edge of the forest to assure himself of the safety of our surroundings. Barbeau joined him, and questioned. "We have reached the trail?" "Ay, beside the shore yonder; see you anything of Indian tepees across the stream to the left?" "Below, there are wigwams there just in the edge of the grove. You can see the outlines from here; but I make out no moving figures." "Deserted then; the cowards have run away. They could not have been attacked, or the tepees would have been burned." "An Algonquin village?" "Miamis. I had hoped we might gain assistance there, but they have either joined the whites in the fort, or are hiding in the woods. 'Tis evident we must save ourselves." "And how far is it?" "To the fort? A league or two, and a rough climb at the farther end through the dark. We will wait here until after dusk, eat such food as we have without fire, and rest up for a bit of venture. The next trip will test us all, and Madame is weary enough already." "An hour will put me right," I said, smiling at him, yet making no attempt to rise. "I have been in a boat so long I have lost all strength in my limbs." "We feel that, all of us," cheerily, "but come Barbeau, unpack, and let us have what cheer we can." I know not when food was ever more welcome, although it was simple enough to be sure--a bit of hard cracker, and some jerked deer meat, washed down by water from the stream--yet hunger served to make these welcome. We were at the edge of the wood, already growing dark and dreary with the shadows of approaching night. The wind, what there was, was from the south, and, if there was any firing at the fort, no sound of it reached us. Once we imagined we saw a skulking figure on the opposite bank--an Indian Barbeau insisted--but it disappeared so suddenly as to make us doubt our own eyes. The loneliness and peril of our situation had tendency to keep us silent, although De Artigny endeavored to cheer me with kindly speech, and gave Barbeau careful description of the trail leading to the fort gate. If aught happened to him, we were to press on until we attained shelter. The way in which the words were said brought a lump into my throat, and before I knew the significance of the action, my hand clasped his. I felt the grip of his fingers, and saw his face turn toward me in the dusk. Barbeau got to his feet, gun in hand, and stood shading his eyes. "I would like a closer view of that village yonder," he said, "and will go down the bank a hundred yards or so."