He went back to her. “You will not be afraid, little one? You can run swiftly, and if you can keep a steady head——”
“Yes, yes!” Wawataysee stood with outstretched arms and smiled. Renée started with a child’s audacity. The round logs, instead of the flat surface, confused her and she hesitated, lost her balance and went down with a cry. Valbonais sprang into the creek, but missed his first grasp of her. The next brought her safely up and Wawataysee took her, frightened and half strangled. Valbonais shook himself and laughed.
“I would rather the clothes had not taken a bath. And she is wet, but not injured.”
“It slipped and rolled,” the child began, “and then I couldn’t keep on. Oh, dear! I am all dripping.”
“Roll her in a blanket. I am sorry it is so near dark and we cannot tell quite which way to go.”
“We must keep on toward the Illinois,” said Wawataysee. “Oh, and now I think we came up a creek to the Peorias’ lodge. What if this should be the stream? Then we are nearer home than I thought.”
Her eyes shone like stars, her voice was freighted with joy, for her thought was an inspiration.
“I do not see how we could have gone out of the way,” he returned, knitting his brows.
“The river winds. We may have shortened our journey a little by it. And if we could find the lodge! Oh, I can’t help feeling that we are all right!”
She was wringing Renée’s garments and rubbing her with a blanket. Valbonais pressed the water out of his, and tried to catch the inspiration.