“It was still daylight, and we made a fire there.  The Indians came and watched us from a little knoll, less than a quarter of a mile back.

“Cora took one of the remaining horses away and killed it, and brought back meat to the fire and we ate a little.  I thought if we slept a little while we would be better able to start the raft.  So Cora and I lay down while Nesis kept watch.”

Colina’s voice was shaking.  She paused to steady it.  “I was careful to choose a place out in the open,” she went on.  “We were in a grassy bottom beside the river.

“The nearest cover was a poplar bluff about three hundred yards back.  He—­he must have crawled down to that.  I was awakened by a shot.  They had got her!”

Colina’s clenched hands were pressed close together, her head was down.  The quiet voice broke out a little wildly.

“Ah!  I have never, never ceased to blame myself!  I should not have slept!  I ought not to have let her watch!  But I never thought they would dare shoot!”

Colina went on in a schooled voice more affecting than an outcry.

“Nesis was shot through the breast.  I had nothing to give her.  I stanched the wound the best way I could.

“I saw at once that she could not live.  Indeed, I prayed that she would not linger—­in such pain.  She lived throughout the night.  She was conscious most of the time—­and smiling.  She died at daybreak.

“I do not know what happened after that.  I gave out.  It was Cora who saw the launch coming down the river, and signaled it with her petticoat.  They landed and carried us aboard.  I remember that.

“I wanted them to turn back and take us up to the crossing.  But it was impossible to go against the current on account of the ice.  They took us down to Fort Enterprise.  We took Nesis.  She is buried there.

“At Fort Enterprise we had to wait until the ice packed in the river, and enough snow fell to make a winter trail.  Then we started with dog teams.  I brought Captain Stinson and my servant, Cora Thomas, for additional witnesses.  It is seven hundred miles.  That is why we were so long.”

Mr. Pascoe rose.  His erstwhile ruddy cheeks showed an odd pallor under the purple veins, and he looked thoroughly disconcerted.  “My Lord,” he said, “this is a very affecting tale.  It is, however, my painful duty to protest against its admission as evidence.”

Colina interrupted him.  “I beg your pardon,” she said quickly.  She produced a little book from inside her dress.  “May I explain further?” she asked the judge eagerly.

“One moment, please, Mr. Pascoe,” said his lordship.  He signed to Colina to proceed.

“I meant, of course, to bring Nesis here,” Colina continued.  “When I saw that—­that I never would, while I didn’t know anything about courts or evidence, I felt that it would be safer to have a written statement.