“Do you mean to say my brother is dead?” said Loïs, leaning against the wall to keep herself from falling.
“Yes, I mean it; they are all dead, and I will stay here and serve you. I loved the White Chief, and I served him. He told me many things. I will live with the white man, and pray to the Great Spirit Jesus”; and suiting the action to the word, he sat down upon the floor, in token that he meant to abide there.
Silence, a dead silence, fell upon them. The early morning light came creeping in through the windows, a pale autumn light with no warmth or brightness in it. A chill feeling of despair overpowered Loïs; she looked at the dark messenger. Could he be speaking the truth? Might he not be mistaken? But she knew the Indian lad; he had often brought her messages from Charles, even when he was a mere child; now he was about fifteen, and there was no reason why he should deceive her. What should she do with him? If she took him into the kitchen the rest of the family would see him, and the news he brought would spread from mouth to mouth, until it reached the ears of her mother and Father Nat. At present this must be avoided.
“How have you travelled?” she asked. “And how long have you been on the road?”
“I travelled the same way as the hunters, through the forests. I have come often before; I know the way,” said the boy. “The moon was new when I started; it is full now.”
“You must be tired; you had better rest. Nokomis, take him to the attic next yours in Omega Marsh, and be careful that neither my mother nor Father Nat sees him, until I tell you. Give him bread and meat, and all he needs. You will keep quiet for a day or two, until I know what to do,” she said to the boy.
Her eyes were full of tears, her lips trembled; she never for one moment doubted the truth of the story he told. Her brother was dead, the child was dead, and Roger—where was he?
Nokomis signed to the Indian to follow her, and skirting the outhouses, they reached the back entrance to Omega Marsh, which was at present only inhabited by herself and one or two men, Father Nat having remained since his illness at Alpha Marsh.
“You lie quiet here. Nokomis bring you food: you sleep; no work.” And to this pleasant prospect the Indian readily acquiesced. Nevertheless Nokomis, when she left him, took the precaution of turning the key and putting it in her pocket.
Two days later, when she went in the early morning to take him his food, he was gone; the dormer window was open, and, looking out, she knew he had escaped by the roof. Here and there a creeper had been loosened, and in the grass and on the ground below she saw traces of feet—not the Indian’s naked feet only, but the print of a woman’s shoe; and she stood and looked, then went across to Alpha Marsh, her eyes fixed on the ground, like a dog on the scent. As she passed Bob’s kennel she saw it was empty.