“We are in a little perplexity as to the means of disposing of them,” said St. Clair, laughing, and yet feeling as much embarrassed as if she had not been half Indian, and standing in the depths of her native wilderness.
“I can trust no one as yet,” she answered. “The whole transaction must remain a secret, or I would send men here to take them to my home.”
“Can we not do it, madam?” he asked; “can we not row over to it?”
“Yes; it is not far and stands almost upon the shore.”
She pointed to the stone front of her dwelling, which shone out grandly in the moonlight.
“It is hardly gracious to make you perform such an office,” she said.
“It becomes an honor in your service,” he replied; “besides, we have our boatmen below.”
“Then, since you are so kind, I will go on in advance and show you the way,” she said.
They conducted her to her canoe, and set rapidly off in the wake of silver that flashed under her paddles.
They landed on the shore, close by one of the entrances to her mansion, and began unloading the countless packages which crowded the boats. Mahaska stood by, apologizing gracefully, but in her heart she was delighted at forcing these two proud pale-faces to superintend work which should have belonged to the meanest workmen—even in so slight a thing, it was a pleasure to humble any of the hated race.