“Yet know you who among the whites have thus far preserved their lives?” I urged, in an agony of suspense.  “Were any of the women brought alive to the camp?”

“It was my fortune to see but one; nor was I permitted to approach her,—­a sweet-faced girl, yet she could not be the one you seek, for she wore a wedding-ring.  She was saved through the friendship of Black Partridge, and I heard that she is a daughter of the Silver-man.”

“Ay!  Mrs. Helm!  Thank God!  But was she the only one?”

“Truly, I know not; for I was forced away from sight of much that went on.  Little Sauk has a white maiden hidden in his lodge, who was brought from the battle.  I have not seen the girl, but know this through others who were angry at his good-fortune.”

“Could we reach there, think you, unobserved?”

She rose, and gazed anxiously across the stream, her face showing clear and fair in the faint light of those distant fires, while I caught the glimmer of a pearl rosary about her white throat and marked a silver crucifix resting against her breast.

“It will be life itself you venture in such an attempt,” she said softly, “even its loss through torture; yet ’t is a deed that might be done, for the Indians are fairly crazed with blood and liquor, and will pay small heed to aught save their heathen orgies.”

“Then let us venture it.”

She turned slightly and looked at me intently, her dark eyes filled with serious thought.

“Yes, we will go,” she responded at last, slowly.  “If through God’s grace we may thus preserve a life, it will be well worthy the sacrifice, and must be His desire.”

For another moment we waited there silently, standing side by side, gazing anxiously across the dark water, and listening intently to the varied discordant sounds borne to us on the night air.  I know not what may have been in her thought; but upon my lips there was a silent prayer that we might be safely guided in our desperate mission.  I wondered still who this strange young woman could be, so surrounded by mystery, a companion of savages, and still gentle and refined in word and manner.  I dare not ask again, nor urge her confidence; for there was that of reserve about her which held me speechless.  I glanced aside, marking again the clear pure contour of her face, and my look seemed instantly to arouse her from her reverie.

“I expect little trouble until we near the centre of the camp,” she said, thoughtfully. “’T is dark amid the northern lodges, and we shall meet with no warriors there unless they be so far gone in intoxication as to be no longer a source of danger.  But come, friend, the longer we tarry the less bright grows the hope of success.”