"Pale-face squaw want moccasins?" she asked, holding out a pair decorated with beads and quills.

A strange thrill went through Helen as she felt the touch, and saw the dark, fierce face of the Indian woman so close to hers. But with an effort she controlled herself and answered:

"Yes, I want moccasins. These will fit me. How much are they?"

"Waupatheca not know. Pale-face tell her," said the squaw throwing up her hand.

"What shall I give her?" Helen asked of Harold, who turning from his men watched the scene with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"A piece of cloth, some needles and thread would be better than money,"

he said.

"But I haven't them with me."

"Give the moccasins back and tell her you will come again this afternoon. The Indians must not come to the house. Not so soon at any rate."

A dissatisfied expression came into the squaw's face; but she nodded and turned away, as her daughter, also unsatisfied, pulled at one of the strings of Helen's bonnet.

"Little Moon want it!" she exclaimed eagerly.

"Little Moon can't have it," returned Helen, arranging her hood and shaking her head, "but I will bring you something too."

The girl clapped her hands and laughed.

"Where did you learn English?" Helen asked.

"In Detraw," was her answer.

"How did you get there?" she questioned.

"'Jibway Indians and squaws go in canoes every summare," was the answer; "sell skins, sell wampum, sell moccasin, sell fish, too."

The black eyes of the girl wandered restlessly toward the men who were working.

"What is your name?" Helen asked.

"Metsemee. It means Little Moon," she replied.

"What a beautiful name!"

"Pale-face squaw like it?" questioned the girl with a smile.

"Yes, it is like the silvery moon itself. And your mother's name, she did not tell me its meaning?"

"Waupatheca means White Swan; she came from the setting sun--the daughter of a Shawanee chief by the Wabash."

"And your father?"

"He is Big Thunder, Chief of the Ojibways. My mother calls him Pepapaunway-Nenimkee, because the lightning flashes when he is angry."

"Well, good-bye Metsemee," said Helen. "I will not forget my promise."

Little Moon again flashed a look at the men. Then turning she followed her mother to the tepees; while Helen, taking her seat in the canoe, was paddled across the channel by her faithful servitor.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

In plain clothes, without letters or despatches but well supplied with funds, Corporal Bond was chosen by Sir George to accompany Latimer and his wife on the first trip of the _b.u.mble Bee_. The order was to go no farther than was necessary, but to purchase provisions from the settlers living along the sh.o.r.e of the lake; and to return with the proceeds to the fort with all possible speed. This was outside of the ordinary scene of conflict, and the trip could be accomplished, Latimer declared, with safety.

Mrs. Bond, accustomed to the vicissitudes of military life, took the parting from her husband philosophically. She was proud of his selection for the trust, and hoping for his early return wished him G.o.d-speed, almost without a tear.

Perhaps of the two women, Helen was the sorrier. She betrayed more feeling, and with much reluctance parted with her old nurse again. When the women were so few, the absence of one, particularly this one, seemed like a desolation to her.

"I shall soon be back again," said Mrs. Latimer, as Helen wrung her hand. "So do not worry, child." She was thinking of the London days of long ago, when she nursed her and carried her so often on her shoulders.

"I wonder if she'll ever come back or is this the last I'll see of her?"

was Helen's thought as she brushed away a tear.

The little brig spread its canvas, and by the darkening was speeding outside the harbor into the open lake.

A day or two later preparations were completed to forward official despatches and letters overland to Little York--the party to consist of Nenimkee, one of his Indians and two men of the regiment; and by arrangement the chief reported himself at Sir George's quarters, the evening previous to their departure, to receive final instructions.

The sun had just set among pillars of sapphire and gold. The day had been hot but the leaves were rustling upon the trees, for a gentle coolness was coming. Still the mosquitoes were too many to be blown away, and a smoke fire helped to nullify their ardor. Around it Sir George and his officers seated themselves to await the arrival of the chief.

Nenimkee was a typical Indian--tall, middle-aged, with high cheek bones and restless black eyes. To do honor to the occasion and his mission he dressed in native costume that night with wampum belt, girdle, tomahawk and knife.

"Glad to see you," said Sir George, extending his hand. "These are my officers, and this is Big Thunder, Chief of the Ojibways--one of his Gracious Majesty's most loyal chiefs."

Gravely and silently the Indian shook hands with the men as they rose.

Then he seated himself on a block by Sir George's side, and Lieutenant Manning handed him a pipe well filled with tobacco. The smoking was general and for some moments there was silence.

"Good tobacco," was Nenimkee's first comment.

"Yes," said the Colonel. "We always give the best to our friends."

"Nenimkee take some on his journey?" were his next words.

"Yes, you shall."

"White chief good--always good to Indians."

"Thank you, Nenimkee," said Sir George. "Are you long back from the war path?"

"Seven moons," was the answer. The Indian shrugged his shoulders and for some moments again there was silence.

"Tell us about it," said the Colonel.