These questions, prompted only my anxious curiosity and desire to learn more of that mysterious being whom I had now twice seen. I ridiculed the ideas of Biddon, and Nat strove hard to convince him that he was not afraid. Biddon, consented to remain until more was learned, intimating at the same time, that it must be very soon. He visited the horses each day, and found them undisturbed. This, however, only added to his anxiety. Had they been gone he would have taken it as convincing evidence that _bona fide_ Indians were in the neighborhood. The next day, after the closing scene of the last chapter, Nat agreed to accompany me for the last time to the spot where we had seen the canoe. The trapper could not be prevailed upon to go, affirming that he should probably have his hands full at home. It required my utmost skill to succeed with Nat, as the horror had plainly settled upon him. “It’s awful!” said he, as we started, “this walking right into danger, but I want to see that canoe agin, but especially that gal, and so I’ll go.” “And, I trust, behave yourself. You well know, Nat, you fired that shot which came so near ending Biddon’s life.” “Wonder if I did pull the trigger!” he exclaimed, suddenly stopping and looking round at me. “You _know_ you did, and had he known it, too, it would have been a sorry piece of business for you. That temper of his is terrible, when it is once excited.” “I remember cocking my gun, and kind of pulling the trigger, but I didn’t mean to pull hard enough to make it go off.” “I suppose not. I cannot conceive how Biddon persuaded himself to believe that you did not discharge it when the case was self-evident. But he is willing to believe almost anything since he has started.” “He shouldn’t have gotten before my gun, for he knows my hand sometimes trembles.” “I trust you will be able to control it this time.” “No doubt of that; but, then, I’d advise you, as a friend, not to get before me, especially if you see the canoe coming.” I assured him that I should not, and we kept upon our way. Upon each of the occasions before, as near as I could judge, it was about noon that the canoe made its appearance; and, as it was that time now, we hurried forward, lest the opportunity should pass. The opportunity, I say--for, although it had appeared but twice as yet, I somehow or other was well satisfied we should see it again. “What are you going to do?” asked Nat. “It will depend upon what we see. If simply those two savages with the captive, as we judge her to be, are in the canoe, and no demonstration is made, I think it best not to attempt a rescue. It is only a supposition of ours that she is a captive, and we know not that she would thank us for interfering in her case.”