There was a flutter of excitement at the settlement when the betrothal of the Colonel's daughter and the King's courier became known. The young people, especially, were quite excited, and discussed it in the most animated manner. But it did not end in talk, for they decided to celebrate the event that very evening. In every home preparations were soon under way, and the women vied with one another in the culinary art. Jean was to know nothing about what was taking place, hence a careful watch was kept upon her movements. Old Mammy was let into the secret, and her face beamed with pleasure as the news was whispered into her ear.

"And you must not tell, Mammy," was the warning. "We want you to know so that you can help us to keep the secret from Jean until the right minute."

"Why, bress yo' life," the faithful servant replied, "dis ol' colored woman won't say nuffin'. She nebber knows nuffin', anyway, 'cept to hol' her tongue at de right time, which is more'n mos' folks kin do.

An' doan yo' worry 'bout Missie Jean takin' any hint of what's goin'

on. She's in lub, an' when a pusson's in lub, she's so near to heaben dat she doan pay much heed to what's goin' on 'round her. An' dat's de way wif Missie Jean."

Of all this excitement and innocent deception Jean was totally unaware.

Part of the morning she played with the little Indian child along the sh.o.r.e, and rambling in the woods a short distance from the house. Much of the afternoon she spent in the canoe upon the water. She visited again the place up the creek under the big maple, and recalled the happy day when she and Dane had been last there, and the words of love which had been breathed into her ears. Taking the arrow-pin in her hand, she looked at it for some time. The words "Love's-Charm," kept running through her mind, and she wondered in what way that little trinket would be a Love-Charm to her. Suddenly and impulsively she raised it to her lips. Then she gave a quick, startled glance around, fearful lest she had been observed. She smiled at what she considered her foolishness, replaced the pin, and pushed the canoe from the sh.o.r.e.

When she reached home she was surprised that her father and Dane had not returned. The days were much shorter now, so the shades of night were stealing over the land as she entered the house. She had noticed a great heap of drift-wood piled upon the sh.o.r.e, but thought little about it, as it was a common occurrence on these cool nights for the young people to have a bonfire. She found Mammy preparing supper, with the child playing upon the floor nearby. The fire-place was aglow, and the flames, licking about several sticks of white maple, illuminated the room. It was a cheery, homelike scene, but Jean's first thoughts were for the hunters. She expressed her anxiety to Mammy, and asked what could be keeping them so late.

"Doan yo' worry 'bout dem, chile," the old woman replied. "Dey's well able to take care of demselves. Yo' might hab reason to be anxious if yo' daddy was alone. But he's got Mistah Dane wif him, an' dat young man knows de woods better'n I used to know my cookin'-stove in Ol'

Connec. No, yo' needn't worry one bit. Dey'll turn up all right, 'specially when dey's good an' hungry; dat's jes like men."

But Jean did worry, especially when another hour pa.s.sed and the men had not returned. Supper had been ready for some time, and even Mammy was beginning to show her impatience. She fussed with the baby, glanced often toward the fire, where the dishes were being kept hot, and at last lighted the dip-candles which she had placed upon the table.

"De Cun'l likes to hab de room bright," she remarked, "'specially when he comes home. He kin see yo' pretty face all de better, Missie Jean.

An' Mistah Dane'll need a good light when he comes in, an' he'll be 'sprised when he sees how yo' look. I nebber saw yo' look better'n yo'

do jes now, wif yo' hair fixed up so nice, de lobely col'r in yo'

cheeks, an' wearin' dat beau'ful dress yo' brung from Ol' Connec."

Jean turned and smiled upon the woman. She had been standing at the open door for some time, watching and listening for the hunters.

"You must not flatter me, Mammy, or you will make me vain," she replied. "Oh, I wish they would come! I am getting so anxious."

Scarcely had she finished speaking when the absent ones appeared suddenly before her. Seeing her father leaning heavily on Dane's arm, she gave a slight cry of fear, and darted to his side.

"Daddy, daddy, what is the matter?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Let me get into the house, dear, and I shall tell you," the Colonel replied. "I feel very tired."

Seated before the fire, and later at the table, the story of the fight with the moose was told. The Colonel described the scene most vividly, and gave the courier great credit. He said nothing, however, about the quarrel, neither did Dane refer to it. That had pa.s.sed with the running water over which they had clasped hands of enduring friendship.

It was well, they were both aware, that none should know of it but themselves.

Jean was greatly interested in this adventure, and she watched her father with beaming eyes, forgetting at times her supper. Dane thought that he had never seen her look so beautiful. He admired the dress she was wearing, and he was pleased to see the Love-Charm at her throat.

He observed the flickering light dancing upon her soft, wavy hair, and the varying expressions playing upon her face as she listened to her father. His heart was full of joy, and he realised more than ever before how pleasant it was to return from the hills to the light and warmth of a home where love dwelt.

They had finished their supper, and the Colonel was resting upon a settle near the fire, when a knock sounded upon the door, and a number of young people at once entered. They were in the gayest of moods, and surrounding Jean and Dane, they led them out of the house. Down to the sh.o.r.e they hurried, where the big bonfire was blazing merrily, and great forked flames were leaping high into the air.

"What is the meaning of this, Mammy?" the Colonel asked, as soon as the young people had left. "What is going on to-night?"

"It's a dance 'bout de fire, Cun'l," the old woman explained. "De young folks hab been plannin' all dis bressed day to s'prize Missie Jean an' Mistah Dane t'night. Dey's been cookin' an' cookin', an'

whisperin' mysterious like, an' laffin' an' laffin' to split dere sides."

"What about?"

"Why, doan yo' know, Cun'l?" and Mammy looked her surprise. "Jes as soon as de young folks heard de news 'bout Missie Jean an' Mistah Dane dey made plans to cel'brate, so dat's what dey's doin' now. An'

listen, Cun'l, to de music. Simon's settin' on a log, playin' fo' all he's worf, an' de young folks is a dancin'. Yo' bett'r come an' see fo' yo' set."

"I can see from where I am, Mammy, if you will move aside," was the reply. "I can't see very well through you."

With the woman's bulky body out of the way, the Colonel was enabled to view all that was taking place near the sh.o.r.e. The fire lighted up the ground for a considerable distance, so he could see the young people moving to and fro, and hear their chatter and happy laughter. And in their midst were Jean and Dane, the happiest of all. Occasionally a young man would throw some wood, or a great root upon the fire. As the flames leaped up anew, and ma.s.ses of sparks were hurled in all directions, shouts of merriment ascended, followed by shrieks of laughter as the maidens fled from the falling, fiery shower. The Colonel smiled as he watched the merrymakers. He liked to see them happy. Their sojourn in the wilderness had not dampened their spirits, and he knew that such people were the right pioneers for a new land.

Jean and Dane thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They were pleased at the interest taken on their behalf, and entered heartily into the spirit of the gathering. As the evening wore on, and the dancing subsided, they gathered in little groups around the fire, far enough away to escape the intense heat. And here upon the ground they sat while the good things which had been cooked that day were pa.s.sed around. Then it was that the older members of the settlement came to partake of the repast.

Several jugs containing West India spirits were produced, and all drank to the health of the young couple they delighted to honour. The use of this beverage was almost universal, being dispensed as an ordinary act of hospitality, and no festive occasion was considered complete without the flowing cup. Snuff-boxes were then brought forth, and their contents liberally sampled, while those who smoked filled their piles and lighted them with small burning embers. Snuff, like Jamaica spirits and New England rum, was in more general use than tobacco.

Various were the shapes and designs of the snuff-boxes, some being of considerable value. They were carried in the pockets, and two men meeting would exchange whiffs as a matter of course. True hospitality was deemed lacking where the friendly box was not pa.s.sed around. It was the custom, and custom makes all things proper.

While this genial spirit of contentment and good will prevailed around the fire, a tall Indian stood within the shadow of the forest, and watched the scene with much interest and curiosity. At length he stepped forth into the flame-lit circle, and walked deliberately over to where Dane was seated. His presence was at once noted, and a sudden hush fell upon the gathering.

"h.e.l.lo, Pete!" Dane exclaimed in surprise. "Where have you come from, and what do you want?"

The native replied in the deep guttural Indian tongue, and what he said caused Dane to start, while an expression of anxiety overspread his face. He asked a question in the same language, with which he was quite familiar, and when it had been answered, he turned to the intensely interested group around him.

"I am sorry to have to leave you," he announced, "but I must go at once, as I am needed up river."

"Is it anything serious?" Jean asked in a low voice.

"I am afraid so," Dane replied. "I told you that Pete would suddenly turn up with important news, and I was right. The rebels are stirring up trouble."

"But you must see daddy before you go," Jean said. "He will be greatly disappointed if you don't."

"Certainly I must see him. Let us go at once, as there is no time to lose."

Together they made their way to the house, leaving the people around the fire gazing curiously after them. As they entered, they saw the Indian bending over the sleeping child, and watching it most intently.

Mammy was standing by on the defensive, fearful lest she was about to lose her little charge.

"Doan let him take her, Mistah Dane," she cried. "I can't spare Babby.

Drive him out ob de house."

Pete at once straightened himself up to his full height, and smiled as he looked upon the agitated woman.

"Injun no tak' babby," he said. "Injun no cabin. Babby no mamma."

"Bress de Lo'd fo' His goodness!" Mammy fervently exclaimed, lifting on high her hands, "and let all de earf gib t'anks unto His holy name fo'

ebber an' ebber."

The Colonel was greatly interested over Dane's departure, and asked him several questions.

"I can tell you very little now," the young man replied. "That the rebels are up to some mischief is quite certain. Pete has found out where they are to meet to-morrow night, so we must be on hand to learn their plans."

"Is it far from here?"

"Quite a distance. We shall take the canoe, and make it in several hours."

"Why not wait until daylight?"

"That would not do, as we need darkness for such work. The rebels must not know of our presence."