CHAPTER XXIV
TIMON OF THE WILDERNESS
Jean awoke the next morning much refreshed after the good night's rest. She slept upon a liberal supply of blankets which Kitty had prepared for her upon the floor. This was a treat after camp-life, and when she opened her eyes the Indian woman was cooking breakfast. It was not yet daylight, but the room was quite bright from the dancing flames of the fire-place. It felt nice to lie there with a roof above her and no weary journey ahead for that day, at least. She recalled the events of the previous day, and wondered how the injured man had passed the night. She had fallen asleep thinking about him, and the mystery of his life. Whoever he was, she was thankful that he had known her parents, and that for their sake he was willing to send food to the Loyalists. The Indians were to start that morning, so she must be ready to assist them in selecting the supplies.
About a quarter of an hour later Sam entered the room. He did not knock, for such etiquette was not in his simple code of Indian manners. He merely looked to see what his wife was cooking, and then turned toward Jean.
"Beeg chief want see babby," he announced.
"How is he this morning, Sam?"
"No good. Bad."
Fearing that the man was much worse, Jean hurried into the other room, and went at once to the couch.
"Good morning," she brightly accosted. "How are you feeling now?"
"None too good," was the reply. "I didn't sleep a wink last night."