"I have a strong conviction that way myself," he said, smiling; "even heaven could scarcely be deaf to your prayer." The girl coloured deeply at these words, which were uttered with such earnest conviction as caused her to bow her head. The captain simply smiled softly. "Are you tolerably strong, miss?" he asked. "Why do you ask me this question?" she said. "Because," he answered, "we have a very long journey to go before we find your friends." "What matters about fatigue, sir? I am already strong. The very idea has restored my vigour." "We shall have to undertake a long night journey," he continued, "through the prairies, by very rough ways." She clapped her pretty hands together joyously; a charming smile lightened up her physiognomy, and then she cried out in a delighted and proud accent-- "I have Indian blood in my veins, sir," she cried; "I am the daughter of a brave Canadian hunter. Fear nothing for me. I am not a woman of the towns, who, I am told, can neither walk nor run." "They are very much like it," growled Pierre. "Try me, put me to any proof, and you will see of what I am capable to get back to my friends." "Come, I see, at all events, that you are as brave and noble a woman as you are beautiful. Come, it is time." "Do we go directly?" she cried. "Yes," was his smiling answer. "One moment," she said; "give me time to thank God for having touched your heart. Let me pray." "Do as you wish," he replied, respectfully. The young girl folded her arms across her breast, raised her looks heavenward with an inspired air for some minutes. One could see by her thoughtful brow, from the compression of her coraline lips, that she was praying. Her face was radiant, her eyes were full of tears. She seemed transfigurated. The two men, despite their rude aspect and rough natures, stood respectfully beside her, utterly cowed, overcome, crushed under the weight of her purity and innocence. They stood before her hat in hand. When her short and ardent prayer was over, the girl turned to them with an ineffable smile. "Now, gentlemen," she said, bowing to the two men who she saw were henceforth her slaves, "I am quite ready." The outlaw and his companion bowed and followed behind as she led the way outside. Camotte was there, as was also the valorous Tête de Plume, holding the horses. Tom Mitchell led Miss Angela to the mare Lara, which he had ordered to be saddled, and held the stirrup respectfully. "Mount," he said, just as if he had been speaking to a princess in her own right. Then, as soon as the outlaw had given some last whispered directions to Camotte, they started, Tom Mitchell riding at the head of the little band. By the time the ford was passed over in safety the moon had risen in the sky above the trees. The four travellers were now safe on terra firma.