Suddenly she was standing before McKay and Father John, her breast throbbing with excitement.

“There is nothing more to make ready,” she said.  “Yellow Bird has been with me all this day, and her spirit told me to prepare.  We have everything we need.”

And then she saw only Father John, and put her arms closely about his neck, and with wide, tearless eyes looked into his face.

“Father, you will come to us?” she whispered.  “You promise that?”

The Missioner’s arms closed about her, and he bowed his face against her lips and cheek.

“I pray God that it may be so,” he said.

Nada’s arms tightened convulsively, and in that moment there came a warning growl from outside the cabin door.

“Peter!” she cried.

In another moment Father John had extinguished the light.

“Go, my children,” he commanded.  “You must be quick.  Twenty paces below the pool is a canoe.  I had one of my Indians leave it there yesterday, and it is ready.  Roger—­Nada—­”

He groped out, and the hands of the three met in the darkness.

“God bless you—­both!  And go south—­always south.  Now go—­go!  I think I hear footsteps—­”

He thrust them to the door, Nada with her bundle and Roger with his pack.  Suddenly he felt Peter at his side, and reaching down he fastened his fingers in the scruff of his neck, and held him back.

“Good-bye,” he whispered huskily.  “Good-bye—­Nada—­Roger—­”

A sob came back out of the gloom.

“Good-bye, father.”

And then they listened, Peter and Father John, until the swift footsteps of the two they loved passed beyond their hearing.

Peter whimpered, and struggled a little, but Father John held him as he closed the door.

“It’s best for you to stay, Peter,” he tried to explain.  “It’s best for you to stay—­with me.  For I think they are going a far distance, and will come to a land where you would shrivel up and die.  Besides, you could not go in the canoe.  So be good, and remain with me, Peter—­with me—­”

And the Leaf Bud, standing wide-eyed and motionless, heard a strange little choking laugh come from Father John as he groped in darkness for a light.

CHAPTER XXI

A slow illumination filled the cabin, first the yellow flare of a match and then the light of a lamp, and as Father John’s waxen face grew out of the darkness Peter whimpered and whined and scratched with, his paws at the closed door.

Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, stood like a statue, with her wide, dark eyes staring at Father John, but scarcely seeming to breathe.

In the old Missioner’s face came a trembling smile and a look of triumph as he read the fear-written question in her steady gaze

“All is well, Oosimisk,” he said quietly, speaking in Cree.  “They are safely away, and will not be caught.  Continue with your duties and let no one see that anything unusual has happened.  Breault will come very soon.”