De Artigny came back and aided me here, speaking words of encouragement, and assuring me that the trail we sought was only a short distance beyond. I laughed at his solicitude, claiming to be good for many a mile yet, and he left me, never realizing that I already staggered from weariness.
However we must have made excellent progress, for the sun had not entirely disappeared when we emerged from the dark wood shadows into a narrow, grassy valley, through which flowed a silvery stream, not broad, but deep. Assured that this must be the water we sought, I sank to the ground, eager for a moment’s rest, but De Artigny, tireless still, moved back and forward along the edge of the forest to assure himself of the safety of our surroundings. Barbeau joined him, and questioned.
“We have reached the trail?”
“Ay, beside the shore yonder; see you anything of Indian tepees across the stream to the left?”
“Below, there are wigwams there just in the edge of the grove. You can see the outlines from here; but I make out no moving figures.”
“Deserted then; the cowards have run away. They could not have been attacked, or the tepees would have been burned.”
“An Algonquin village?”
“Miamis. I had hoped we might gain assistance 271 there, but they have either joined the whites in the fort, or are hiding in the woods. ’Tis evident we must save ourselves.”
“And how far is it?”
“To the fort? A league or two, and a rough climb at the farther end through the dark. We will wait here until after dusk, eat such food as we have without fire, and rest up for a bit of venture. The next trip will test us all, and Madame is weary enough already.”