"The good Father told me so. It has been blessed by Père Marquette and by all the holy men who have come after him. It will cure disease and keep from all harm." "Well," sighed Chandonnais, "I'll take it." Robert heard the clink of the half-breed's hard-earned gold, and wondered whether he had spent the whole of it for a cross. The next day the prevailing wind of Summer blew warm and strong from the south-west, and the sails of the schooner filled as if in anticipation. Robert thought of the hardy Romans in the Æneid, when "the breezes called their sails," as once again the people gathered on the shore. Letters and messages to friends at Fort Mackinac, together with many trifling gifts, were pressed upon the crew. A long line of foam lay upon the turquoise water when out in the sunlit distance the ship turned to the north, and hands were waved in farewell long after the others had ceased to see. The Mackenzies were glad it was over, even though a long year was to pass without communication with the outside world, but others were sorry. Chandonnais was non-committal and hummed to himself the song of the _voyageur_. The pack-trains were loaded, the patient horses bending under a heavier burden than they had brought; the boats started to Milwaukee after all of the _engagés_ had been given another round of liquor, and a pack-train followed them north on land. The others, silhouetted against the setting sun, went west over the unbroken prairie; the drowsy tinkle of the bells died away in a silvery murmur, and peace lay on Fort Dearborn. * * * * * At the end of the week there was a diversion which was entirely unexpected--as most real diversions contrive to be. Mrs. Mackenzie was in the garden, planting flower seeds, when soft footsteps sounded on the bare earth beside her, and a sweet voice said, "How do you do, Aunt Eleanor?" "Why, Beatrice!" exclaimed Mrs. Mackenzie, kissing her warmly. "Where did you come from?" "From Fort Wayne, with Captain Wells--he's across the river. I rowed over by myself. I was so afraid you'd see me coming and wouldn't be surprised." "My dear! I'm so glad!" "Maybe you won't be, when I tell you. I've come to live with you, Aunt Eleanor." "That makes me happier still," said Mrs. Mackenzie, in her stately way. "You are welcome." "Thank you, Aunty; but I haven't come to be a burden to you, and I trust I never shall be. If I'm ever a trouble, I want you to tell me so and send me away. In the first place, I have fought most terribly with my aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne. They don't know I've come." "Why, my dear! How could you?"