"You must take my blanket," and Owaissa began draping it about her.
"But—Noko?" said the French girl.
"Noko is soundly asleep. And the sailors are throwing dice or drinking rum. Their master cannot be back until dark. Go your way proudly, as if you had the blood of a hundred braves in your veins. They are often a cowardly set, challenging those who are weak and fearful. Do not mind."
"Oh, the good Father bless you forevermore." Jeanne caught the hands and covered them with kisses. "And you will not be afraid of—of his anger?"
"I am not afraid. I am glad I came, though it was with such a desperate purpose. Here is my ring," and she slipped it on Jeanne's finger. "Give it to Wanita when you are landed. He is faithful to me and this is our seal."
She unlocked the door. Noko was in a little heap on the mat, snoring.
"Go straight over. Never mind the men. You will see the plank, and then go round the little point. Adieu. I wish thee a safe voyage home."
Jeanne pressed the hands again. She was like one in a dream. She felt afraid the men would question her, perhaps order her back. Two of them were asleep. She tripped down the plank, turned the corner of the dock and saw the clump of trees. Still she hardly dared breathe until she had passed it and found the canoe beached, and a slim young Indian pacing up and down.
"Wanita, Wanita!" she exclaimed, timorously.
He studied her in surprise. Yes, that was her blanket. "Mistress—" going closer, and then hesitating.