“It’s a fac’. The boy is a fugitive slave picked up by White Eagle in some of his tramps and adopted. The girl is a quadroon. Her mother, the chief’s wife, was a fugitive too, whom he befriended and then married out of pity.” “Still they’re human beings, and entitled to some consideration,” replied Warren, while he muttered to himself, thinking of the tales he had heard of American slavery,--“What a country!” “That’s so, mister, that’s so; but it’s precious little consideration niggers and Injuns git aroun’ hyar, an’ that’s a fac’.” For all his hard words, Ebenezer Maybee was a humane man and had done much for the very class he assumed to despise. He did not hesitate to use the methods of the Underground railroad when he deemed it necessary. When Warren returned to the room, the two children stood where he had left them, and as soon as Mr. Maybee joined them they started out. Through mud and rain they made their way, the rays from the lanterns but serving to intensify the darkness. Very soon a vivid flash threw into bold relief the whiteness of the hissing lake. “What did you come over in, Judah, canoe or boat?” shouted Mr. Maybee, who headed the party. “The boat,” called back Judah. “I thought you might come back with us.” “Good!” shouted Mr. Maybee. When they were all seated in the boat, after some difficulty, Judah stood upright in the bow and shoved off. Each of the two men had an oar. Not even an Indian would ordinarily trust himself to the mercy of the water on such a night, but Judah steered out boldly for the little isle without a sign of fear. “Judah knows his business,” shouted Mr. Maybee to Maxwell. “He’ll take us over all right if anybody can.” At first Warren noticed nothing but the safety of the craft, and the small figure crouched in the bottom of the boat. Every swell of the angry waters threatened to engulf them. The boat shivered; foam hissed like steam and spent its wrath upon them. The lightning flashed and the thunder rolled. There was no sky--nothing but inky blackness. Rain streamed over their faces. Warren’s hair hung in strings about his neck. The dangers gathered as they lessened the five miles between the mainland and the island. The young Englishman loved aquatic sports and his blood tingled with the excitement of the battle with the storm. The day had brought him adventures, but he did not shrink from death by drowning were it in a good cause. Presently the shore loomed up before them, and after much skilful paddling, they entered the sheltered cove that answered for a bay. The boat grounded and Judah sprang out, holding it fast while the others landed. It was a relief to them to feel the hard, sandy beach beneath their feet and to know that the danger was over for the present. “Let us go faster,” said Winona. “We are close now, sir--close,” turning to Warren.