They wanted to linger about Pani, but the throng kept increasing. Wenonah warded off troublesome questions and detailed the story to newcomers. The dame brought her a cup of tea with a little brandy in it, and then waited what seemed an interminable while.
The alarm spread through the garrison, and a searching party was ordered out equipped with lanterns and well armed. At its head was Jeanne's admirer, the young lieutenant.
Tony Helmuth had finished his supper.
"Let me go with them," he pleaded. "I know every inch of the way. I have been up and down the creek a hundred times."
Pani rose. "I must go, too," she said, weakly, but she dropped back on the seat.
"Thou wilt come home with me," began Wenonah, with gentle persuasiveness. "Thou hast not the strength."
She yielded passively and clung piteously to the younger woman, her feet lagging.
"She was so glad and joyous all day. I should not have let her go out of my sight," the foster mother moaned. "And it was only such a little while. Heaven and the blessed Mother send her back safely."
"I think they will find her. Paspah is good on a trail. If they stop for the night and build a fire that will surely betray them."
She led Pani carefully along, though quite a procession followed.