I do not clearly remember at this day what it was we spoke about in the brief whispering that passed between us while we waited there. Neither of us felt like voicing our real thoughts, and so we but dissembled, making commonplaces fill the gaps between our silences. The night found us undisturbed, and it shut down so darkly within the narrow confines of the lodge that I lost all trace of her presence, but for an occasional movement or the sound of her low voice. Without, the rapidly increasing noise indicated a return of many savages to the camp, until at last a fire was kindled in the open space, its red flame sending some slight illumination where we were, but not enough to reveal the interior of the lodge. An Indian brought the girl some food, entering and leaving without uttering a sound; and we two ate together, striving to speak lightly in order to make the coarse meal more palatable. Suddenly I became aware of a faint scratching upon the skin of the lodge, at my back. At first I supposed it to be some wild animal, or possibly a stray dog; but the regularity of it showed a purpose of some kind. Could it be De Croix? Or was it the half-breed with some secret message he dared not deliver openly? I lifted the lodge covering slightly, and placed my lips to the aperture. "Is some one there?" I whispered cautiously "Who is it?" "I am Sister Celeste," came the immediate low reply. "Are you the white man I guided?" "Ay," I answered, rejoicing at this rare good for tune, "and I beg you to listen to what I say. There will be a boat awaiting us beneath the old Agency building at midnight. You must be there with De Croix." "De Croix?" "Yes; I know not if that be his name to you, but I mean the Frenchman whose life you saved. Will you take him thither at midnight, together with the rifle I left in the council lodge?" For a moment she did not answer. Doubtless it was a bitter struggle for her thus to agree even to meet the man again. At last she made reply, although I could plainly mark the faltering of her voice. "The man of whom you speak shall be there," she said, "unless some accident make it impossible." As I drew back my head, and sat upright, Mademoiselle spoke questioningly. "With whom were you conversing just now, Monsieur?" "The young woman of whom we have spoken so often," I answered thoughtlessly. "She has pledged herself to bring De Croix to the meeting-place." "Indeed!" she exclaimed, with accent so peculiar I knew not how to interpret it. "It almost makes me desire to form one of your party." CHAPTER XXXIII AN INTERVENTION OF FATE "Form one of our party?" I echoed, believing I must have misunderstood her words. "Surely, Mademoiselle, you cannot mean that you take your promise to the half-breed so seriously as voluntarily to remain in captivity?"