cooled a little, placed it to her lips. It tasted good, so she drank
it all. The Indian next thrust a sharpened stick into the kettle, and
brought forth a piece of the partridge which he placed in her cup.
This was tender, and Jean enjoyed it as much as she did the broth. It
brought a renewal of strength to her body, and she felt less weary.

Breakfast ended, the Indians took their few dishes to the water, washed
and scoured them with sand, and left them upon a big stone for the sun
to dry. The cleanliness of these natives was a surprise to Jean, and
this touch of civilisation gave her some encouragement. She had often
heard of the uncouth Indians, but here were men who could put many
white people to shame.

For about two hours they remained there, and while the Indians dozed in
the sun, Jean walked up and down the shore, or sat upon a rock looking
out over the water. It was a beautiful morning, with not a breath of
wind astir, and the mirror-like river reflected the great trees along
its border. Where she was she had no idea. That she was some distance
inland she felt certain. But how far? Whither was she bound? and what
were the Indians going to do with her? Over and over again she vainly
asked herself these questions as she gazed pensively out over the water.

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 shores. 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