Almost mechanically she watched the natives as they left the canoe and proceeded to build a small fire upon the bank. This accomplished they proceeded to cook some moose steak they had brought with them.
No one seemed to take any notice of Madeline, and for a while she remained in the canoe. At length, arousing Donnie, she attempted to rise to her feet, but sank down again with a slight cry, so numb was her body from her cramped position. The boy opened his eyes and looked around in a startled manner.
"What's the matter, Malin?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"No, dearie," was the reply. "I shall be better soon. Will you help me out of the canoe?"
At once the little fellow sprang to his feet, took her hand in his, and proudly led her ashore, and up the steep bank. With difficulty Madeline made her way by his side, pretending to lean upon him for support. Ere long the numbing sensation passed away, and she walked slowly around, watching the men preparing their breakfast.
The Indian woman took no part in their proceedings, but sat upon a stone a short distance away. She appeared to be gazing far off into space. But her sharp eyes noted Madeline's every movement.
The latter was strangely fascinated by that silent figure. At times she was seized with a nameless fear at the thought of what this woman might be planning down deep in her heart. Of the men, wild and uncouth though they were, she had little anxiety. Their faces at any rate were not crafty or cruel. But this woman with that strange light in her eyes made her tremble with apprehension.
When the breakfast had been prepared Madeline was offered some meat, and black tea in an old filthy tin can. The sight of the latter almost sickened her, and she turned away her head in disgust. The meat she took, ate some, and gave a little to Donnie, who was hungry, and enjoyed it thoroughly. It did not take them long to complete their frugal meal, and soon they were all again in the canoe, moving once more down that sombre stream.
Before long they entered upon a large, broad lake, and, instead of skirting the shore, the Indians struck straight away to a point of land dimly seen in the distance. This body of water, some thirty miles long, by three to five wide, was dotted here and there with small wooded islands. It was almost completely surrounded by towering, rock-ribbed mountains, whose peaks, devoid of life, were covered with snow for the greater part of the year.