One hour more—and he would make his final break for safety. Impatiently, he rose and began pacing back and forth in the narrow, confining space, swinging his numb arms against his shivering body.
Suddenly, Dick’s hand went to his automatic in a quick, convulsive movement. But he did not draw his gun. Instead, he grinned sheepishly, staring at the dusky face which peered up from below.
“Hello,” he sang out.
The Indian girl smiled and clambered up to the perch beside him. She spoke in Cree:
“They did not see me come. I will help you. Does monsieur know where he is?”
With the few Indian words at his disposal, Dick endeavored to explain his case. He admitted that he had become confused. He could see the ocean, but it was still a long way off. In an attempt to escape his pursuers, he had been forced to travel in the wrong direction. How far was he now from her home?
“You are very close,” replied the girl. “If it were not for the heavy woodland just over there, in the light you would be able to see it.”
“How did you find out I was here?” queried Dick.
“From your enemies,” the girl answered unhesitatingly. “One of them came to my father’s house a short time ago and asked for food. I overheard him tell my father that you had sought concealment on this hill. So I came at once to help you, monsieur.”
“Where are the outlaws now?”