When at last he was seated again, as I leaned to shove him off, he whispered in a compensating, kindly manner: "When ye 're goin' ashore, an' they 's somebody 'n the canoe, don't never try t' tek it with ye 'less ye tell 'im yer goin' tew." There was a deep silence over wood and water, but he went away so stealthily I could not hear the stir of his paddle. I stood watching as he dimmed off in the darkness, going quickly out of sight. Then I crept over the rocks and through a thicket, shivering, for the night had grown chilly. I snagged my dress on a brier every step, and had to move by inches. After mincing along half an hour or so, I came where I could feel a bit of clear earth, and stood there, dancing on my tiptoes, in the dark, to quicken my blood a little. Presently the damp light of dawn came leaking through the tree-tops. I heard a rattling stir in the bare limbs above me. Was it some monster of the woods? Although I have more courage than most women, it startled me, and I stood still. The light came clearer; there was a rush toward me that shook the boughs. I peered upward. It was only a squirrel, now scratching his ear, as he looked down at me. He braced himself, and seemed to curse me loudly for a spy, trembling with rage and rushing up and down the branch above me. Then all the curious, inhospitable folk of the timber-land came out upon their towers to denounce. I made my way over the rustling, brittle leaves, and soon found a trail that led up over high land. I followed it for a matter of some minutes, and came to the road, taking my left-hand way, as they told me. There was no traveller in sight. I walked as fast as I could, passing a village at sunrise, where I asked my way in French at a smithy. Beyond there was a narrow clearing, stumpy and rank with briers, on the up-side of the way. Presently, looking over a level stretch, I could see trees arching the road again, from under which, as I was looking, a squad of cavalry came out in the open. It startled me. I began to think I was trapped, I thought of dodging into the brush. But, no; they had seen me, and I would be a fool now to turn fugitive. I looked about me. Cows were feeding near. I picked up a stick and went deliberately into the bushes, driving one of them to the pike and heading her toward them. They went by at a gallop, never pulling up while in sight of me. Then I passed the cow and went on, stopping an hour later at a lonely log house, where I found French people, and a welcome that included moose meat, a cup of coffee, and fried potatoes. Leaving, I rode some miles with a travelling tinker, a voluble, well-meaning youth who took a liking for me, and went far out of his way to help me on. He blushed proudly when, stopping to mend a pot for the cook at a camp of militia, they inquired if I was his wife. "No; but she may be yet," said he; "who knows?"