At last the moonlight darkness faded to grey; then to a lighter grey; the sky was slashed with faint rose, growing rapidly deeper and mingling with gold streaks, until the sun climbed up to survey the land; and another day had come.
“Look, Jack!” cried Desiré, elbowing her sleeping brother.
“Where?” he asked, yawning.
“In that hollow!”
They were on the crest of a hill, from which they could look down into a nearby valley.
“Tents!” exclaimed the boy, now fully aroused.
“Indians!” shouted Priscilla, who, wakened by their voices, had crept up to look over their shoulders.
“Prissy! How you scared me!” cried her sister, jumping violently.
Jack took the reins, and, as fast as the team could travel, headed for the encampment. They reached their objective just as the Indians were beginning to break camp. Everything was in confusion; braves striding here and there; squaws shouldering the big bundles; children crying; dogs barking. Running back and forth from one group to another, they spied René.
Throwing the reins to Desiré, Jack jumped down and approached an Indian who seemed to be directing affairs. With some difficulty, he made the red man understand his story. Partly by signs, partly by broken English, the chief replied that “two suns ago they had found strange white child among them. Where belong, they not know. Going on to reservation. Then send back young brave who know English to find boy’s people.”