"I will go with you, Lambert Sternberg," said Catherine.
Breathing deeply, she laid her hand in his offered right hand.
Then they hastened over the deck. Catherine nodded tearfully to one and another. She could not speak. Her heart was too full for speech. No one returned her silent farewell, except with dumb and hopeless looks which cut her to the heart. On the long and terrible journey from her home until now, according to her strength and beyond her strength, she had tried to mitigate the boundless wretchedness around her. She could do no more than leave the hapless creatures to their fate. Alas! what a fate awaited those who were here cast on a strange shore like the scattered fragments of a wreck that has been the dreadful sport of the waves. Tears of pity dimmed her eyes. Her senses forsook her. When, holding her bundle of clothing in her hand, she felt her feet standing on solid ground, she knew not how she had got off the ship.
Catherine said nothing, but in her inmost heart she cried out again and again: "God be praised!"
CHAPTER III
The setting sun, which hung over the forest sea of Canada Creek, poured its purple beams over the travelers. They had just emerged from the woods through which they had been going the whole day by solitary, narrow Indian trails. At their feet lay the valley, filled with roseate evening mist, following the windings of the creek.
Lambert stopped the strong-limbed horse which he was leading by the bridle as they were ascending the valley, and said to his companion:
"This is Canada Creek, and that is our house."
"Where?" asked Catherine.
Leaning over the saddle and protecting her eyes from the sun with her hand she eagerly looked in the direction which the young man had indicated.