And the hunter sounded the darkness around him with his piercing and unerring eye. All at once, he fancied he saw an object moving in the fog. He went on; then after carefully examining this person, who grew every moment more and more distinct, he drew himself up, and leant on his rifle.
"What the deuce do you want here at this hour, Sunbeam, my dear child?" he asked in a low voice.
The young Indian squaw, for it was really she whom the hunter had addressed, laid a finger on her lip as if recommending prudence.
"Follow me, Koutonepi," she said to him so softly that her voice resembled a sigh.
After going a few yards, the girl stooped, and made the hunter a sign to follow her example.
"Look," she said, pointing to one of those long and light canoes which the Indians hollow out of enormous trees, and which carry ten persons with ease. "Look."
Valentine, in spite of his self-command, had difficulty in suppressing a cry of joy. He held out his hand, saying with considerable emotion:
"My brave girl!"
"Sunbeam remembers," the Indian girl replied with a smile, "that Koutonepi saved her; the heart of the white lady is kind, Sunbeam wishes to save them all."
The first moment of emotion past, the hunter, who was thoroughly acquainted with the cunning and roguery of the redskins, bent a scrutinising gaze on the girl. The Indian's face had an expression of honesty which commanded confidence, and Valentine entered the canoe.