She straightened herself and pulled the blanket over her. The same stolid faces that had refused any satisfaction last night met her gaze again in blankness.
There was a broad, open space of water, no longer the river. She glanced about. A sudden arrow of gold gleamed swiftly across it—then another, and it was a sea of flame with dancing crimson lights.
"It is the lake," she said. "Lake Huron." She had been up the picturesque shores of the St. Clair river.
The Indian nodded.
"You are going north?" A great terror overwhelmed her like a sudden revelation.
The answer was a solemn nod.
"Some one has hired you to do this."
Not a muscle in any stolid face moved.
"If I guess rightly will you tell me?"
There was a refusal in the shake of the head.