"Me—Benny," he lisped in English, holding up his little hand to
Nell.
The action was as loving and trusting as any that could have been manifested by a white child. Jonathan Zane stared with a curious light in his dark eyes; Mr. Wells and Jim looked as though they doubted the evidence of their own sight. Here, even in an Indian boy, was incontestable proof that the savage nature could be tamed and civilized.
With a tender exclamation Nell bent over the child and kissed him.
Jonathan Zane swung his canoe up-stream for the purpose of bringing Joe. The trim little bark slipped out of sight round the bend. Presently its gray, curved nose peeped from behind the willows; then the canoe swept into view again. There was only one person in it, and that the guide.
"Where is my brother?" asked Jim, in amazement.
"Gone," answered Zane, quietly.
"Gone! What do you mean? Gone? Perhaps you have missed the spot where you left him."
"They're both gone."
Nell and Jim gazed at each other with slowly whitening faces.
"Come, I'll take you up to the village," said Zane, getting out of his canoe. All noticed that he was careful to take his weapons with him.