The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1914-08-07


low hills. No sounds reached US. and
as we came into narrow ravine.
promising concealment, 1 released my
grasp on the bit and staggered back
against the bank. Mademoiselle
slipped from her seat and fastened to
me.
you are worn out. monsieur,
wounded?"
Worn out, yet, but nothing has
touched me save blow or two. Il
think we can rest now"
Then it occurred to me, a thought
that had swept into my mind once
before-we had no provisions, no
chance to get away and we dare not
shoot, nor build fire.
What is 1t, monsieur"
why, we have nothing to eat,
Rene" | admitted reluctantly. TT is
long journey to the Ohio, and how
are we to keep from starving? Faith!
but am near that now"
She stood before me, slender, erect,
the blanket draped about her, her eyes
lowered.
1T was mine to remember, mon
sieur." she said simply, as II 1t was
all the most ordinary thing in the
world 81 knew not what would hap
pen, and there was food there When
the women ran away, and l would not
go, because you told me not, knew
it would be best that take some. You
do not blame me, monsieur"
/ Blame! you are jewel; but l see
nothing of it! Where
"'Tis here, monsieur; am glad if
please you"
She flung aside the blanket, drop
ping 1t to the ground, revealing a
black ammunition bag strapped across
her shoulder. l remembered now feel
ing it when held her in my arms,
vaguely wondering what 1t was. She
unclasped and opened it.
! Monsieur must eat" she said grave
ly, "and sleep. Then he will be strong
again.
1 tried to do as she said, munching
a few mouthfuls. Her actions, her
words, her manner toward me, both
bewildered and angered. She had as
sumed the part of a servant-chosen
it, as If she would thus teach me my
own place. In every possible way she
showed me she was not there from
choice, but necessity. l lay back, toy
ing with the food, my appetite gone.
The wounded horse had been down to
the river and drank; now he was paw
| ing the snow in an effort to discover
feed. Over in the east, but some dts
lance off, a rife cracked ominously In
the silence. My head fell back against
the bank, and was sound asleep.
1t was two days later when we toiled
up long hill, and came out upon the
summit. l no longer needed to lead
YEARLY behind. Much of the snow
had melted, leaving the soil soft, and
the trees appeared bare, phantom-like,
against the sky. Rene rode silently,
wrapped in her blanket, for the air
was chill and damp her head bent,
her eyes straight ahead. have no
remembrance that we had spoken for
an hour. Beyond the hill summit
there was an escarpment of rock, Civ
ing an open view ahead. AS l gazed
of, over the trees below, my heart
gave a great bound-there, scarce a
mile away, flowing between leagues of
forest. was the broad Ohio, its waters
silvery in the sun. l turned to her
and pointed.
AT last, Rene" l cried, forgetting.
I'VE are safe now; see! There Is the
river"
She lifted her eyes and looked.
Yes, monsieur"
Why do you ever speak to me in
that tone? You answer me always as
If you we're my servant"
Your servant" She was looking at
me now. Am not, monsieur"
"Of course you are not. You are
free; whatever put that in your head?
haven't known what to think, what
to do since we have been together.
Back on the Maumee IL thought you
loved me-"
i do love you, monsieur"
"You-you love me-" / stammered.
And yet bear yourself as you do?"
Yes, monsieur; how else could
do? You are white; am an Indian"
rs that all! You think that makes
it different? Rene, l love you; out
yonder is my home; would take you
there; would say to those who know
me-here is my wife"
"Your-your wife!" There was
doubt, questioning in her eyes.
Eyes, of course; how could you
think otherwise%
"Oh, monsieur, how could l know?
How could believe? was an Indian
girl, Wyandot. 1t is not so the white
men come to our villages. have seen
them-the red-coats, the traders OF
France. They take with the strong
hand, and then laugh, and go away.