she was, and that no doubt King George would hear of their good deed.
Her words pleased the simple-minded natives, and they undertook the
difficult task in the best of spirits.

"Don't forget to tell the Loyalists about the moose," Jean reminded as
she stood watching them from the back door.

"Injun no forget," Sam replied. "White man come bimeby. Sam, mebbe."

The girl watched her faithful friends until they had disappeared from
view. All at once she seemed inexpressibly lonely as she stood there.
While the Indians were with her she felt secure. But now she was alone
with the mysterious invalid in the next room. She might have gone,
too, but the man had asked her to stay until the natives returned, and
she could not very well refuse his request. Anyway, she would be of
more use here than out on the trail. She wondered what was the cause
of the feeling of depression that had so suddenly swept upon her, and
which was contrary to her buoyant nature. All at once the great silent
forest appeared to her like some sinister monster, holding a lurking
enemy within its brooding depths. She chided herself for her
foolishness, but for all that, she could not entirely banish the
strange feeling.

Going into the adjoining room, she found the invalid asleep. Not
wishing to disturb him, she sat down by the table and picked up the
book lying open there. It was a copy of Shakespeare's works,
well-bound, and showing signs of much use. She turned to the front
blank pages, hoping to see a name inscribed there. But nothing could
she find. She examined two other books, one a copy of Virgil's
"Aeneid," and the second "The Tatler," but no clue could she obtain as