"It is very scant information on which to proceed," deplored Mrs. Gray. "I confess that I made a mistake in keeping our trouble a secret. Since that newspaper spread the news abroad I have done my best to amend the error. I have seen to it that the sheriff of the county in which the camp is located took up the matter. I have also offered a large reward for the finding of Tom, or the positive proof that he is dead." Her voice dropped despairingly on the last word.
"Be of the brav' heart," responded Jean confidently. "I hav' the feeling that it is for me to find the los' M'sieu' Tom. I hav' travel many times over the country w'ere he get los' an' I know it, every tree an' stone. It is a wil' place, an' the men up there know not'ing but cut down trees. Very t'ick in the 'aid." Jean tapped his gray head significantly, better to demonstrate the vast stupidity of lumbermen in general.
"M'sieu' David is one fine young man, but he not know the big woods lak' ol' Jean. The ot'er man, he also not know." Jean shrugged his broad shoulders. "If all Jean's life he stay in cities, it would be so wit' him."
"But Jean, have you any idea of what might have happened to Tom?" entreated Mrs. Gray.
Again Jean shrugged. "Many t'ings might 'appen. P'r'aps he lose the way in storm an' get hurt; mebbe he die. P'r'aps timber t'ieves get him an' shut him up somew'ere way off hid. Of a truth, Jean cannot tell. But I go hunt for M'sieu' Tom an' fin' out. Then I tell." Jean seemed determined to impress upon his hearers that he would "fin'" Tom Gray.
"When can you start north, Jean?" Grace waited breathlessly for the answer.
"Soon; to-morrow," came the quick assurance. "First I go to my cabin to mak' ready. In the morning I come here early an' say the au revoir. Then I go an' fin' M'sieu' Tom. You are satisfy?" His shrewd black eyes sought the approval of the trio of tense faces bent earnestly upon him.
"We are more than satisfied." Impulsively Mrs. Gray stretched forth a little blue-veined hand. Somewhat to that estimable woman's astonishment old Jean bent and with true Gallic chivalry raised it lightly to his lips. "I am honor that you trust," he said simply.
Looking on, Grace was immeasurably touched by the woodsman's quaintly respectful act of deference toward her Fairy Godmother. Her romantic fancy transformed rugged old Jean into a gallant knight about to fare forth on a dangerous errand.
"You are a true Frenchman, Jean," smiled the pleased old lady. "A lifetime spent in roughing it hasn't robbed you of inherent chivalry. Did you know that Miss Briggs remembered you from hearsay and was the first one to suggest that you would be the very person to hunt for Tom?"