"No, no. Plenty good Injun no fight King George. All sam' Dane."

"You have known Dane quite a while, I suppose!" Jean asked, while a
conscious flush stole into her cheeks.

"A-ha-ha, long tam. Dane leetle babby, so beeg," and she spread out
her hand, palm downward, about two feet from the ground. "Kitty know
Dane; Kitty know Dane mamma."

"What, you know his mother?"

"A-ha-ha. Good woman. Dead now."

"Do you know his father?"

The woman turned suddenly toward the fire without replying. Jean
noticed this, and wondered. She also remembered Dane's peculiar manner
when she had mentioned his father. Her interest and curiosity were now
aroused more than ever. There must be some mystery connected with
Dane's father, she felt certain. She longed to know, and hoped to find
out something from this woman. There was no opportunity, however, just
then as Sam appeared unexpectedly before them. He was much excited,
and addressed a few rapid words to his wife. Jean rose to her feet,
her face pale with fear.

"Are the white men after me?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"A-ha-ha." Sam replied. "White man chase babby."