“Holy Master!” she cried within, “Thou didst answer my prayer,--but at what cost! Oh, Lord of Heaven, what cost!”
Then she dropped her blade and, under cover of the darkness, sat back upon her heels, covered her face with her hands, and wept.
In the silence that had fallen deep again, save for the lessening tumult behind, her weeping sounded to the outermost canoe low and awful, hard and terrible as the weeping of a man.
She did not even feel if the breath was still in McElroy.
“'Twas yer leader I meant, lassie, should rayport to me. Is it he I saw yez rollin' out like a bag o' beans?”
“Nay, M'sieu,” said Maren Le Moyne, standing before the tall man in the flush of dawn at the morning camp, her eyes red-rimmed and the curling corners of her mouth drooped and sad; “what poor leader there is among us has been myself.”
All along the river bank were little fires, their blue smoke curling up to the blue sky above, the bustle and fuss of preparation for the morning meal. At one place in the centre of camp two women, their appearance that of great fatigue, were languidly directing the work of a couple of Indians. An abundance of truck was everywhere--utensils for cooking, clothing, and blankets out of all reason to one used to the trail.
These things had not escaped Maren as she came through them in search of the leader. They all set his status in her mind, told her much of the history of her rescuers.
“Eh?” he said in surprise again; “you the leader? An' whatlike was the evil hap that placed ye in among that rabble o' painted beauties, may I ask? An' how comes a slip of a lass”--he looked her over from head to heel with his sharp grey eyes; “--well, not so much a slip, still a colleen--like you wid th' command o' men in this part o' th' world?”
“Of a surety you may ask, M'sieu, and it will be my happiness to tell you, since but for you and your quick help, given without knowledge, we should be now in sorry plight.
“The man you saw taken from the canoe is Monsieur Anders McElroy, Factor of Fort de Seviere on the Assiniboine, and of the Hudson's Bay Company.”
“Faith of me fathers! Say ye so! A man of our own men!”
“Aye. Then you are also of the Company? Good! Surely have we fallen on the lap of fortune.... Those Indians, Nakonkirhirinons from the far north and strangers in this country, came to De Seviere to trade. For two--three dais, maybe more,--I have lost track of time, M'sieu,--they passed up and down at the trading,--camped on the shore, and all seemed well, though they were wild and shy as partridges. One man among them seemed to wear the cloak of civilisation,--Negansahima the chief.