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

The Indian's only reply was a grunt of amusement, 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 gratitude, 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."