“Oh!” squealed René.
“With a loud squawk he flapped his wings, and, bending and twisting as well as he could, managed to run his sharp beak into the fingers which grasped him. In the instant which was necessary for Gamona to get a fresh grip, Oliver struggled free; and you may believe that he lost no time in flying away from that dangerous spot. Instead of going right home, however, he went to see Glooscap, and tell him what had happened.
“‘My eyes are so small, I can’t see very well,’ he complained, after he had told the whole story.
“‘I’ll fix that,’ replied Glooscap, stroking the bird’s eyes until they became larger and larger and rounder and rounder. ‘Now you’ll be able to see her wherever you are. Keep faithful watch of her, and notify all the other creatures at night when she is near.’ So that is why the owl has such big eyes, and sits up in the trees crying ‘Who-o-o!’ all night long.
“And now you must go to bed.”
Leaving Priscilla to clear up and keep an eye on René, Jack and Desiré crossed to the grove to get things in order for the night. The tent was small, and after several unsuccessful attempts they succeeded in getting it up. Jack cut some balsam boughs for a mattress, and over them Desiré spread blankets, placing a couple of cushions for pillows. The floor of the nearby wagon was fixed in like manner for the two girls. René and Priscilla went to bed as soon as their quarters were ready for them, but Jack and Desiré, seated on a fallen log at the edge of the grove, lingered to watch the moon rising over the Bay and turning its smooth surface to silver. Fireflies flashed in the long grass at the edge of the grove, and deeper in the woods were mysterious little rustles and murmurs.
“The old settlers,” said Jack softly, “thought the fireflies were evil spirits, and used to set out pails of milk to appease them, and thus keep themselves and their property from all harm.”
“If they were as thick then as they are tonight,” laughed Desiré, “think how many pails they must have had. You know so many things, Jack”; adding, a moment later, something which had been on her mind all day.
“Do you suppose that man will ever come back?”
“You mean the one who disputed our rights?”
Desiré nodded, burying her face on her brother’s shoulder, much as Priscilla might have done.
“I hardly think so, dear,” replied Jack, stroking her curls. “He was pretty well subdued.”
“But he might try to get even with you some way,” shuddered the girl.
“We’ll keep a sharp lookout for him, but otherwise go on our way and try not to worry about mere possibilities, little sister,” decreed the boy firmly.
“If we could only find out what the paper means,” she observed a little later, her eyes on the shining waters of the Bay.
“What paper?” asked Jack suddenly, roused from serious thoughts of his own.
“Why, the one nôtre père gave you; the mysterious one.”
“We might stop in the center of each town, read it aloud, and ask the inhabitants to interpret it for us,” Jack suggested. “Or you and I could take turns standing on top of the wagon and shouting it as we go along.”
Desiré laughed at his absurdities, as he intended she should.
“I don’t care. I’m going to pretend that we’re going to find out what it means before the summer is over.”
“Pretend as much as you like, as long as you won’t let yourself be overcome with disappointment if your day dream should turn out to be only a nightmare.”
A crash behind them made them spring to their feet in sudden fright, and a child’s shrieks rang through the woods.
CHAPTER X
A NIGHT PROWLER
“René!” gasped Desiré, darting back toward the tent.
Jack outstripped her, and when she reached the scene, he was just pulling his small brother out from under a pile of canvas.
“Not hurt,” he breathed with relief; “only badly frightened.”
He put René in Desiré’s lap, and went to examine the wreckage.
“One stake pulled right out,” he reported. “Wonder how that happened. I know I had it in tight, and there is practically no wind.”
“Could he have done it in any way?” asked Desiré, motioning to the little boy.
“René,” said Jack, stooping before the child, who was now quiet again, “did you do anything to the rope of the tent to make it fall?”
René glanced up into his brother’s face upon which shone the rays of the full moon, and, turning, burrowed deep into Desiré’s arms.
“Guilty, I guess. Tell me exactly what you did,” directed Jack.
“Woke up. Played I was a gull; rope was my string. Hung on it; old thing came down. Bang!”
“René,” said Jack, taking the child’s face between his hands, and forcing him to meet his eyes, “you must never, never pull on the ropes of a tent, or meddle with any part of it. If you do, you can’t sleep in it with me, but will have to stay in the wagon with the girls.”
He picked him up and set him on a nearby stump.
“Now sit right here and think about what I have just said, while Desiré and I put the tent up again. Don’t move from the place, and watch how much extra work you have made for us when we are all so tired.”
After the tent was once more in place, Jack returned to René.
“Well, are you going to sleep in the tent or in the wagon?”
“In the tent. I won’t touch no ropes, nor nothin’ again, Jack,” promised the child, holding up his arms. “An’ I’m sorry ’bout making you and Dissy work when you’re all tired, ’n’ everything—”
“That’s a good boy,” replied his brother, carrying him off to bed for a second time.
“Goodnight, Desiré,” he said, returning to kiss her after René was disposed of. “If you’re timid, call me.”
“Yes, but, Jack dear, please don’t lie awake to take care of us. We’ll be safe.”
Soon the grove was quiet. The moon rose higher and higher, and throughout the night kept benevolent watch over the four children sleeping heavily among the protective trunks of the old balsam trees. Little creatures of the night moved noiselessly over the dried needles on the forest floor so as not to waken the strangers within their midst; and a gentle breeze stole quietly in from the Bay to waft its pungent coolness over the tired travelers.
A couple of hours passed, the moon had left the woods partly in shadow. A dark figure was stealing carefully among the tree trunks, stopping every few minutes to listen.
Beyond a band of moonlight stood the little tent from which could be heard Jack’s loud breathing. Nearby was the wagon where all was silent, and from a dark spot beyond it the horses stamped restlessly. Skirting the habitations