next to the tree where Boden had so long been watching the proceedings of the savages.  The distance between the hut and this tree was somewhat less than a mile.  The intervening ground was low, and most of it was marshy; though it was possible to cross the marsh by following a particular course.  Fortunately this course, which was visible to the eye by daylight, and had been taken by the fugitives on quitting the hut, might be dimly traced at night, by one who understood the ground, by means of certain trees and bushes, that formed so many finger-posts for the traveller.  Unless this particular route were taken, however, a circuit of three or four miles must be made, in order to pass from the chiente to the spot where the family had taken refuge.  As le Bourdon had crossed this firm ground by daylight and had observed it well from his tree, he thought himself enough of a guide to find his way through it in the dark, aided by the marks just mentioned.

The bee-hunter had got as far as the edge of the marsh on his way toward the hut, when, pausing an instant to examine the priming of his rifle, he fancied that he heard a light footstep behind him.  Turning, quick as thought, he perceived that pretty Margery had followed him thus far.  Although time pressed, he could not part from the girl without showing that he appreciated the interest she manifested in his behalf.  Taking her hand, therefore, he spoke with a simplicity and truth, that imparted to his manner a natural grace that one bred in courts might have envied.  What was more, with a delicacy that few in course would deem necessary under the circumstances, he did not in his language so much impute to concern on his own account this movement of Margery’s, as to that she felt for her brother and sister; though in his inmost heart a throbbing hope prevailed that he had his share in it.

“Do not be troubled on account of Gershom and his wife, pretty Margery,” said the bee-hunter, “which, as I perceive, is the main reason why you have come here; and as for myself, be certain that I shall not forget who I have left behind, and how much her safety depends on my prudence.”

Margery was pleased, though a good deal confused.  It was new to her to hear allusions of this sort, but nature supplied the feeling to appreciate them.

“Is it not risking too much, Bourdon?” she said.  “Are you sure of being able to find the crossing in the marsh, in a night so very dark?  I do not know but looking so long at the bright light in the cabin may blind me, but it does seem as if I never saw a darker night!”

“The darkness increases, for the star-light is gone; but I can see where I go, and so long as I can do that there is not much fear of losing my way.  I do not like to expose you to danger, but—­”

“Never mind me, Bourdon—­set me to do anything in which you think I can be of use!” exclaimed the girl, eagerly.

“Well then, Margery, you may do this:  come with me to the large tree in the centre of the marsh, and I will set you on a duty that may possibly save my life.  I will tell you my meaning when there.”