He whispered: “Do not be afraid. I have not come in here to hurt you.”
She was staring at him, probably taking him for some monster of the dark.
“Have you anything here to eat?”
The woman resumed her suspended breath, and answered in the same guarded way, and in French like his: “Yes. I come to this part of the island so often that I have put bread and meat and candles in the cave. How did you find it? No one but myself knew about it.”
“I saw the candle-light.”
“The candle was to keep off evil spirits. It has been blown out. Where did you come from?”
“From St. Joseph Island last night with the English. They have taken the island by surprise.”
She unexpectedly laughed in a repressed gurgle, as a faun or other woods creature might have laughed at the predicaments of men.
“I am thinking of the stupid American soldiers—to lie asleep and let the British creep in upon them. But have you seen my cow? I searched everywhere, until the moon went down and I was tired to death, for my cow.”
“No, I saw no cow. I had the Sioux to watch.”