The girls, curious as to their situation, looked about them. At first they could make out nothing but vague shadows, but as their eyes became accustomed to the flickering light they saw with surprise the excellent arrangements that had been made for their comfort. Two strong but soft and yielding couches ran lengthwise along the floor of the wagon, with a space between them. In the corners were a number of downy pillows, while from the canvas covering hung two robes of fur.
Helène was delighted. “See, Princess,” she exclaimed, “see what a cozy place we are in.” The Princess lay huddled, sobbing softly. “Oh, dear lady, do not give way. Come, rest yourself on this couch.” She lifted the girl as best she could, laid her on one of the boxes and covered her with one of the robes. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“I am not afraid, dear Helène,” said the Princess, “but the suddenness of all that has happened has unnerved me. I’ll be quite well again soon.”
The flash of a lighted match flared in and the odor of a cigar was wafted to them on the breeze. How good it was to smell the fragrance. It meant a man, and a man meant protection. The next moment Morton’s cheery voice came through: “Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. You’ll find everything you want. Take my advice and get a sleep.”
Helène thanked him and said they would. She went back to where the Princess lay and saw with satisfaction that she was sleeping. Without, the storm seemed to have renewed its fury. The rain beat on the canvas, the wheels groaned and crunched, the wagon lurched from side to side in its heavy progress, and the swish of water poured from overhanging trees. Helène had now grown accustomed to these sounds. She looked at her watch and noted with surprise that it was but just gone eight. They had been only two hours on their journey—two hours that had seemed to her like two days! She felt very tired; her head ached and her limbs were cramped. She would take Mr. Morton’s advice and rest; perhaps she would feel better after a sleep.
“Are you asleep?” It was Morton whispering loudly to her from the front seat.
“No,” she whispered back, “what is it?”
“I just wanted to tell you that you must not be anxious if you hear noises soon; we are about to cut the telegraph wires. In another hour we shall make our first stop for a change of horses.”
Helène thanked him for the information and lay down. She tried her best to sleep but failed. She heard the driver halt his horses and distinguished Morton’s voice giving orders. Then she heard the clinking of steel implements and the sound of branches snapping. They must be cutting the wires, she thought. A few minutes later she heard Donald call out: “All’s finished, Mr. Morton,” and the journey was resumed.
And now she knew that they were ascending, for she felt the straining of the horses in the creaking harness, and counted deliberately the squelching of their feet in the muddy track. It had grown quite cold, and the fragrance of spruce and hemlock came to her. She lay on the couch looking up at the swaying lantern, half dozing, half waking.