“Oh, I wish I in there,” she whispered.

He was a little nonplused by her naive warmth.

“The men say you strong as one bear,” she went on.  “They say you got gold in your teeth.  Is that true?”

“Yes,” said Ambrose laughing.

“I lak’ to see that.”

In spite of the best intent on both sides conversation languished.  It is difficult to make acquaintance through a wall of logs.  Finally Ambrose asked how it was she could speak English, and that unlocked her simple story.

“My fat’er teach me,” she said.  “He is half a white man.  He come here long tam ago and marry Kakisa.  He spik ver’ good Angleys.  When Watusk is make head man he mad at my fat’er because my fat’er spik Angleys.

“Watusk not want nobody spik Angleys but him around.  Watusk fix it to mak’ them kill my fat’er.  It is the truth.  Watusk not know I spik Angleys, too.  My fat’er teach me quiet.  If Watusk know that he cut out my tongue, I think.  I lak spik Angleys—­me.  I spik by myself so not forget.  I come spik Angleys with you.”

“Your father is dead?” said Ambrose.  “Who do you live with?”

“Watusk,” came the surprising answer.  “I Watusk’s youngest wife.  Got four wives.”

“Good Lord!” murmured Ambrose.

“When my fat’er is kill, Watusk tak’ me,” she went on.  “I hate him!”

“What a shame!” cried Ambrose, remembering the wistful face.

“I wish I in there!” she whispered again.

“Will you help me to get out?” Ambrose asked eagerly.  “I can make it if you can slip me some food.”

“I not want you go ’way,” she said slowly.

“I can’t live locked up like this!” he cried.

“Yes, I help you,” she whispered.

“Could you get me a horse, too?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.  “But many men is watch the trail for police.  Tak’ a canoe and go down the river.”

“Where does this river go?”

“They say to the Big Buffalo lake.”

“Good!  I can get back to Moultrie from there.  Can you bring me a strong knife?”

“I bring him to-morrow night, Angleysman.”

“I will cut a hole in the floor and dig out under the wall.”

Nesis was not anxious to talk over the details of his escape.  “Have you got a wife?” she asked.  “Why not?” There was no end to her questions.

Finally she said with a sigh:  “I got go now.  I put my hand inside.  You can touch it.”

Ambrose felt for the little fingers that crept through the slit, and gratefully pressed his lips to them.

“Ah!” she breathed wonderingly.  “Was that your mouth?  It mak’ me jomp!  Put your hand outside, Angleysman.”

He did so, and felt his fingers brushed as with rose-petals.

“Goo’-by!” she breathed.

“Nesis,” he asked, “do you know why Watusk is keeping me locked up here?  What does he think he’s going to do with me?”