“You want to see me?” she enquired.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, light the candles.  It is very dark here.”

Jean at once obeyed, and in a few minutes the candles were burning brightly.  The effect was beautiful, and as she stood watching them she wondered why there were just seven.

“You like them?” the man asked.

“I do,” Jean acknowledged.  “But I am curious to know why there are just seven.”

“Oh, that is a perfect number,” the man explained.  “It is according to the Bible, you know.  Now, take the snuffers and put out six.”

Jean did as she was bidden, greatly mystified, until but one candle was left burning.

“There, that will do,” the man said.  “Now, come over here and sit by my side.  That is better,” he continued when she had complied with his request.

“How are you feeling?” Jean asked.

“A little easier now.  I am somewhat of a doctor, and Sam helped me.  But never mind that.  I want to know who you are, and why you are travelling with those Indians?”

Briefly as possible Jean told her story, and when she had ended the man remained silent for a few minutes.  She could not see the expression upon his face, nor the peculiar light in his eyes owing to the darkness of the corner where he was lying.  Could she have done so, she would have been more surprised than ever.

“It is a strange story you have told me, young woman,” he at length remarked.  “You have been wonderfully delivered.  You should consider yourself very fortunate in having such friends as those Indians.”

“Indeed I do,” Jean declared.  “They have done more for me than I can ever repay.  I know now how to sympathise with others in distress, and so want to help those unfortunate Loyalists.”

“So you are on your way to get food and clothing from the mast-cutters?”

“Yes, but we won’t have to go to them now, as I am sure you will help out those poor people.  You have plenty of supplies.”

“And they will stay here, young woman.”

“What! you won’t send any to those people in distress?”

“Why should I?  They are Loyalists, and that is enough.”

Jean started and stared at the man in amazement.

Surely she had not heard aright.

“Do you mean what you say?” she asked.

“I certainly do.  Those Loyalists will never receive any help from me.  Let them starve and freeze; it is no more than they deserve.”

These cold, inhuman words stirred Jean’s fighting blood.  She rose quickly to her feet, her eyes ablaze with anger.

“I don’t know who you are,” she began, “and I don’t know why you hate the Loyalists.  But—­” she paused just for an instant, “some of that food and clothing will leave this place to-morrow morning.”

The man sat bolt upright at this declaration, and flung out his right hand as if to hit the girl.  Then he sank back upon the bed with a groan.