And now the sun dropped down. Terrified, Pani made the best of her way back. What had happened? She had seen no sign of a wild animal, and surely the child could not be lost in that brief while!
She must give an alarm. She ran now until she was out of breath, then she had to pause until she could run again. She reached the farms. They were mostly all long strips of land with the houses in reach of the stockade for safety.
"Andre Helmuth," she cried, "I have lost the child, Jeanne. Give an alarm." Then she sank down half senseless.
Dame Helmuth ran out from the fish she was cooking for supper. "What is it?" she cried. "And who is this?" pointing to the prostrate figure.
"Jeanne Angelot's Pani. And Jeanne, she says, is lost. It must be in the woods. But she knows them so well."
"She was ever a wild thing," declared the dame. "But a night in the woods alone is not such a pleasant pastime, with panthers, and bears have been seen. And there may be savages prowling about. Yes, Andre, give the alarm and I will look after the poor creature. She has always been faithful to the child."
By the time the dame had restored her, the news had spread. It reached Wenonah presently, who hastened to the Helmuths'. Pani sat bewildered, and the Indian woman, by skillful questioning, finally drew the story from her.
"I think it is a band of roving Indians," she said. "I am glad now that Paspah is at home. He is a good guide. But we must send in town and get a company."
"Yes, yes, that is the thing to do. A few soldiers with arms. One cannot tell how many of the Indians there may be. I will go at once," and Andre Helmuth set off on a clumsy trot.
"And the savory fish that he is so fond of, getting spoiled. But what is that to the child's danger? Children, come and have your suppers."