It was the canoe girl! She lay on a bed of pine needles her pretty face as pale as death, and her lovely hair tangled in the pine pallet.
As Cora pushed her way into the queer cave, the girl turned, and seeing her, screamed—such a scream as one might expect from the insane. At the same moment the brush was again pushed from the door and there stood the wild man! His white hair and his white beard showed Cora that he was the same person who had so strangely crossed her path in the woods the day she was fern-gathering.
"I want to help you," Cora spoke timidly, while the girl on the ground moaned pitifully.
"Help?" whispered the man, and his voice was as gentle and soft as a woman's. "They have killed my girl," and he knelt down beside the prostrate figure. He kissed her passionately. Then she opened her eyes.
"Father, dear," she murmured, "You must go—quick!"
He kissed her again; then he turned to Cora.
"Young woman," he said gravely, "you must not harm my darling. She is innocent." Then he left the cave.
What could she do? What should she do? This girl was neither deaf nor dumb, and for that Cora was grateful, but if that dangerous man, who had said she was both, should return, and find Cora with her!
"Dear," said Cora gently, "try to trust me. Tell me what I can do for you?"
"Oh, if I could but die!" the girl sobbed, "but there is father!"