“Poor little thing!” exclaimed Wawataysee. “She has been very good and courageous, but it is hard for her. And look at her poor little moccasins—out to the ground.”
“Then Mr. Foxskin will serve us a useful purpose. I have nothing to fasten them on with, but can tie them with strips of his skin to-morrow. And yours?”
She flushed. Hers were in the same plight.
“But I can stand hardships better,” and she smiled cheerfully.
Renée slept all the afternoon and woke much refreshed. It had stopped raining, and now they were full of plans for to-morrow. The moon came out—the baby star had travelled nearly across it.
“I am glad it is a new moon. We shall have some benefit of it the rest of our journey,” their guide said.
“Oh, when shall we get home?” cried Renée impatiently. “Do you suppose there have been any more Indian assaults?”
“You have been remarkably favored at St. Louis. To the east, towns have been burned, people taken captive by scores or murdered. And up north it seems to have been a regular battlefield, with the French losers every time. Think of the English holding our splendid Quebec and Montreal!”
“I have been in Quebec, monsieur,” declared Renée, with amusing dignity.
“And France, too,” added Wawataysee.