All through the morning they continued on their way, and only stopped once to rest and to eat a hurried meal. Then on again, hour after hour, with nothing to break the monotony of vast forests crowding to the very sh.o.r.es. The river was quite narrow now, and very crooked.

This led Jean to imagine that they were nearing the headwaters of the St. John, for never once had she suspected that they were ascending one of its tributaries. She was weary, and her body ached from her cramped position. It seemed an age since she had last slept in her own little bed far away. At times during the day her eyes had closed through drowsiness, but she had always aroused with a start. She felt that she must keep awake until night, at least--and what then?

At length, rounding a bend, her eyes rested upon two people standing upon the sh.o.r.e not far ahead. That they were Indians, a man and a woman, she could easily tell. Her captors saw them, too, so they ran the canoe close to where they were standing, and began to converse with them in the native language. That they were talking about her Jean was fully aware, for at times the woman looked at her in a manner not at all unfriendly. They seemed to be disputing about something, and their voices grew quite loud, and their words most emphatic.

Presently the woman stepped up close to the canoe, reached out and touched the little brooch at the girl's throat. "Su-wan! Su-wan!" she exclaimed. After examining it most carefully, she turned upon the captors and addressed them in an angry manner. They merely grunted at what she said, and pushing the canoe from the sh.o.r.e, once more continued on their way. Jean longed to know what had been said, and the meaning of the woman's sudden interest in the little arrow. She looked back several times and saw the two still standing upon the sh.o.r.e. When another bend hid them from view, a great loneliness swept upon her. She felt that those two were friendly, and had rebuked her captors for what they were doing.

For about another hour they pushed forward, the river becoming narrower all the time. Suddenly before them appeared several Indian lodges, entirely covered with great strips of birch bark. The place was evidently deserted, for no sign of life was to be seen. Here the canoe was run ash.o.r.e, and landing made for the night.

Supper over, one of the Indians handed the captive a blanket, and motioned to the nearest lodge. Jean understood his meaning, took the blanket, and did as she was bidden. The lodge was empty, so placing the blanket upon the ground, she sat down and watched the Indians through the opening which served as a door. A few minutes later her captors pushed off their canoe, stepped lightly on board and started down the river. With fast-beating heart the girl watched them until they had disappeared from view. Then a terrible feeling of desolation came upon her. She was in the wilderness, alone, with untold dangers surrounding her. Had they deserted her? Had the Indians brought her there to perish? The thought was horrible. What had she done to deserve such a fate? With straining eyes she watched the river, hoping to see the Indians return. But night again shut down and they did not come. Certain was she now that they had left her to die. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed out her grief, the first time since her capture. She had tried to be brave, but in all her imaginings she had never dreamed of such a fate as this.

And as she cowered there in the night, listening fearfully to every sound around her, the canoe, bearing her two captors stole noiselessly by, and sped onward through the darkness. The grief and loneliness of the girl meant little to them. Their work was done, they had received their reward, and far off around various camp fires they would relate to their own people the tale of the pale face captive girl.

CHAPTER XVII

THE UNKNOWN QUANt.i.tY

While Jean was crouching there alone in the desolate lodge, several men were gathered around a small fire over half a mile down stream. They had been drinking, and their words were loud and coa.r.s.e. Seth Lupin was the leader, and he was in great spirits. Three of his companions were the slashers who had attacked Dane Norwood at Portland Point, and they, too, seemed much pleased.

These brutes in human forms firmly believed that they were safe from all prying eyes, and that their words of l.u.s.t and revenge were lost amidst the forest depths. Little did they realise that not far away the form of an Indian was pressed close to the ground, that keen ears were listening to every word, and that flashing eyes were watching their slightest movements.

When, however, Lupin at length stepped into the canoe lying on the sh.o.r.e, and began to paddle rapidly up the river, the prostrate Indian rose to his feet, and glided swiftly among the trees, straight for the lodge where Jean was crouching. As the canoe touched the sh.o.r.e a short distance below the encampment, the native was silently standing near a large spruce tree. No sooner had Lupin landed, than like a catapult the Indian was upon him. With a wild gurgling cry of fear the surprised man reeled back, and tried to ward off the attack. But his efforts were all in vain, for the Indian's fingers were upon his throat with a vise-like grip. Notwithstanding his frantic struggles, he was borne steadily to the ground, and there he lay with his a.s.sailant perched upon his body, and his fingers still clutching hard.

Seth Lupin had run his course. He knew no mercy, so no mercy was vouchsafed to him. In his diabolical mind he had planned the ruin of an innocent girl. But in his blind pa.s.sion he had forgotten that the Great Avenger of the just uses many strange instruments in defending His own. He, like others, had left out of consideration the Unknown Quant.i.ty. The mighty forest had witnessed numerous tragedies, but none more swift and sure than the one this night on the bank of that narrow inland stream.

Within the lodge Jean heard that wild cry of fear, and it caused her to spring to her feet in terror. Her eyes stared out into the night, and unconsciously she lifted her right hand and struck at the blackness as if to drive it away. Listening intently, she could hear fearful sounds as of a desperate struggle, and then all was still. What did it mean?

What unknown horrors were surrounding her? With cold clenched hands, and body rigid with terror, she strained her eyes into the darkness.

She imagined that she could see forms creeping stealthily toward her, and the faintest outlines of great tree trunks were to her hideous monsters.

And as she looked and waited, something did appear suddenly before her.

With a cry she started back, and raised both hands to defend herself.

But a voice at once rea.s.sured her, causing her heart to leap with hope.

"White woman safe now," it said. "Injun tak' care white woman. Come."

"Who are you?" Jean asked in a trembling voice.

"Me Injun Sam. White woman no 'fraid Sam. Come."

"Will you save me?" the girl asked. "Will you take me home?"

"A-ha-ha. Bimeby. Come."

A feeling of security now swept upon Jean, so leaving the lodge she followed the Indian, who at once led her away from the river into the forest. It was difficult to see her guide, and so hard was the walking that she often stumbled, and several times fell. At length the Indian took her by the arm.

"Sam help white woman, eh?" he queried.

"Thank you," Jean panted. "You are very good."

With the native's a.s.sistance, she was thus enabled to make much better progress. How strong he was! He kept her from falling, and lifted her bodily at times over a root or a fallen log. And he was gentle, too, stopping to rest as they climbed some hill, and speaking words of encouragement.

"White woman no strong," he said. "White woman all sam' Injun bimeby."

To Jean it seemed as if their journey through the forest would never end. She was so tired, and her feet very sore. Gradually her strength and courage weakened, and her steps lagged. At length she stopped, and her body trembled. She could go no farther. She just wanted to lie down and rest. Then she tottered, and would have fallen had not the Indian caught her in his powerful arms.

"White woman all sam' babby," he said. "Injun tote white woman, eh?"

"No, no, you must not carry me!" Jean protested. "I am too heavy."

The Indian's only reply was a grunt of amus.e.m.e.nt, as he started forth with the girl in his arms. What a tower of strength he seemed as he moved through the forest and the night. Not once did he stumble, and his going was almost noiseless. Jean wondered where he was taking her.

But she did not worry, for this native inspired her with confidence, and she firmly believed that he was really her friend. Anyway, she was too tired to think. She only longed to lay down her weary body and aching head and rest.

The Indian did not have to carry her far, for suddenly a light pierced the darkness, and in a few minutes they were by a camp-fire. A woman was standing there, and Jean recognised her immediately as the one she had met that afternoon, and who had examined the little arrow-brooch.

She glanced quickly at her rescuer, and knew him, too. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Never were friends more welcome.

Near the fire was a brush lean-to, and gently the Indian laid the girl down upon some soft furs and blankets. He smiled with satisfaction as he did this, and so overcome was Jean with grat.i.tude, that she caught his great rough brown hand in both of hers, and held it fast. Tears were in her eyes as she looked upon his honest face.

"Thank you, oh, thank you," she murmured. "You have saved my life.

How can I ever repay you?"

"Sam no want pay," was the quiet reply. "Sam glad save white woman."

The woman now came and knelt by the girl's side. She looked into her eyes, stroked her tangled hair, and touched the Love-Charm at her throat.

"Poor babby! Poor babby!" she crooned. "Hard tam, eh? white man bad, ugh!"

"Why do you say 'white man'?" Jean asked in surprise. "Indians carried me away. You saw them this afternoon."

Suddenly a suspicion flashed into her mind, which caused her to sit bolt upright. Did a white man have anything to do with it? And was that man Seth Lupin? But why had she not seen him? Then she thought of that wild cry of despair outside the lodge, which had caused her such terror. She looked into the Indian woman's face.

"Tell me," she said. "Was it Seth Lupin?"

"A-ha-ha. Seth. Bad. Ugh!"

"Where is he now?"

The woman merely shook her head, and spoke a few rapid words to her husband. She then turned to Jean and placed a light hand upon her shoulder.

"No mind white man now. Babby tired."

Jean smiled as the woman pressed her gently back upon the soft furs, and then stooped to take off her shoes. The latter were torn, and her feet were sore. It felt good to lie there, and to have some one attend to her needs. When the shoes had been removed, and a pair of soft moccasins placed upon her feet, she felt more comfortable.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked. "You are just like a mother."

The woman only smiled in reply, and placed extra rugs about the girl.

She then turned and cut a slice from a piece of moose meat. Through this she thrust a sharp-pointed stick and held it over the glowing coals. When it was browned to her satisfaction, she sprinkled it with a little salt, let it cool for a few minutes, and then handed it to her guest.