For a few seconds there was intense silence. Then the men spoke to
each other, and although Jean could not understand what was said, she
knew from the deep guttural words that her captors were Indians. After
a brief conversation, nothing more was said, and the girl had not the
heart to question further.

Her fears were now greatly increased. She had heard of people being
carried off by Indians, and tales of cruelty and insult worse than
death lingered in her mind. What was the fate in store for her? Why
had the Indians carried her off? She had not harmed them. The more
she thought, the more puzzled she became. She shivered as she sat
crouched there. The night was cold, and the wind piercing as it
whipped across the water. For protection she drew around her shoulders
a blanket which had been placed over her body when she was unconscious.
That the Indians must have done this was a faint ray of light in the
darkness of her despair. There must be some spark of feeling in their
savage hearts, at any rate. She longed to see their faces. Were they
hard and brutal, or did they exhibit some signs of friendliness? She
thought of Dane and Pete. How soon they would hasten to her assistance
if they knew of her trouble. But how would they know where she was?
She pictured the consternation of all, and the grief of her father and
Dane upon their return home. She knew how the latter would spare no
efforts to find her. And her poor father! A moan escaped her lips as
she thought of his agony of soul. She looked wildly around, but only
the blackness of night could she see. Her eyes sought the stars. How
far away and cheerless were those twinkling lights. What did they care
for her troubles?

And as she looked, there came into her mind the opening lines of one of
the psalms, "Unto Thee lift I up mine eyes, O Thou that dwellest in the