“Are they no there?” said Jinny, coming into the kitchen, wiping her dripping arms. “They’ll be ben the hoose. Hush, now, y’re mither is resting,” she added, passing into the living room, followed by Paul. “They’re gone,” said Paul aghast, “and with that sick baby.” “Aye,” said Jinny grimly, “and I hope there was no need for hurry.” “What do you mean, Jinny?” asked Mr. Gaspard. “Oh, I see. Well, you need not fear. Indians do not steal.” “Steal?” said Paul, his face aflame with indignation. “I think it is just mean to appose she would steal. She is a good woman, and she just kissed and kissed Mother’s hands for curing her baby.” “Aw, weel, I’d lippen till nane o’ them.” “Steady, Paul,” interposed his father. “Jinny doesn’t know them as we do. We will investigate a bit. Where did you find her?” “I’ll show you, Daddy,” said Paul, hurling a blighting look upon Jinny, who returned undisturbed to her tub. Together they hurried up the path toward the big pine root. Arrived there, the cry of a child lured them farther up the hill. Paul was off like a hound on the trail. In a very few moments his voice came back through the bushes in remonstrance. “Why are you going away? Your baby will be sick again. Mother wants you to stay. Daddy’s here. Wait! Wait! Here, Daddy! Here she is!” Dashing back through the bushes, he seized his father and dragged him hurriedly to where the Indian woman stood. She had flung her bundle of camp impedimenta to the ground and, with her child rolled up in the blanket, she stood like a wild animal fiercely at bay. “Onawata!” gasped the man, and stood gazing at her, speechless, for some seconds. Then with a quick glance at the boy he spoke rapidly in Indian. Fiercely she replied. Again the man spoke, pointing to the child. For reply she flung toward him an accusing finger. As if she had struck him in the face, the man stood, white, aghast, rooted in his tracks. “Paul,” he said in a voice harsh and shaken, “go back to the house and tell Mother——” “Is the baby dead?” said the boy in an awed voice. “Dead? Dead?” said his father. “Would to God——No! Nonsense! Dead? No fear!” he added with a harsh laugh. “Let me see,” said the boy, springing forward and pulling the blanket from the face of the child. “No, he’s all right. See, Daddy! Isn’t he lovely?” The man glanced at the child, shuddered, then with an obvious effort pulled himself together. “He’s quite all right, Paul. Run back now and tell Mother I am—I have gone to see them safe to their camp.” He spoke a few words to the woman. “Yes, about a mile down the valley. All right, old chap! I’ll be right back,” he added kindly. “Off you go now. Cut away!” “Come,” he said to the woman, picking up her bundle, as Paul reluctantly turned away homeward. For some minutes Gaspard strode in silence along the trail, followed by the woman, then flinging down the bundle he faced her. “Why have you come here?” he said sternly in Indian.