What plan her quick wit may have engendered, I did not know; but I yielded to the entreaty in her pleading eyes, and sullenly muttered the first conscious lie of my life. "I accept your terms, Sau-ga-nash, harsh as they are." He looked from one to the other of us, his face dark with distrust and doubt. "You are not mine to dispose of," he said sternly to the trembling girl, who visibly shrank from his approach, and clung once more to me. "You are prisoner to Little Sauk; nor will I release one thus held by the Pottawattomies. They and the Wyandots are brothers. But I trust you, and not the word of this white man. Pledge me not to go with him, and I will believe you." She glanced first at me, then back into the swarthy, merciless face. Her cheeks were white and her lips trembled, yet her eyes remained clear and calm. "I give you my word, Sau-ga-nash," she said quietly. "While I am held as prisoner by Little Sauk, I will not go away with John Wayland." Little as I believed these words to be true at the time, the sound of them so dulled me with apprehension that I could only stare at her in speechless amazement. It seemed to me then as if the power of reason had deserted me, as if my brain had been so burdened as to refuse its office. I recall that Toinette almost compelled me to lie down against the farther side of the lodge, placing a pile of skins in front of me and assuming a position herself where she could occasionally reach across the barrier and touch me with her soft hand. No doubt she realized the struggle in my mind, for she spoke little after the departure of the half-breed, as if anxious to permit me to figure out the future for myself. Little by little I faced it, and came to an irrevocable decision. It was to be Toinette or nothing. While it might be true that she was in no immediate danger, and possibly could be safely ransomed if I once escaped to civilization, yet the risk of such venture and delay was too great; nor would my love abide so vast a sacrifice on her part. I thought to say this to her; but there was a look of firm decision in her sweet face, as her dark eyes met mine, that somehow held me silent. I felt that in her own heart she must already know what action I would choose, and the final moment would prove sufficient test for her evident determination. Reassured here, my thoughts turned to De Croix; but that was useless. I could send no message to him; he was no longer in especial peril, and perhaps would not willingly desert his newly found wife even to escape the savages. Nay,--it was to be Toinette and I, now and forever.