“I should have gone there anyway,” said Lois, still all a-quiver, and shivering close to my shoulder. I put my arm around her; every muscle of her body was rigid, taut, yet trembling, as a smooth and finely turned pointer trembles with eagerness and powerful self-control.
“Amochol has driven her thither,” she whispered. “Shall we not be on our way?”
“Can you lead, Mayaro?” I whispered.
The Mohican turned and crawled southward on his hands and knees, moving slowly.
“For God’s sake let them hear no sound in this belt of bush,” I whispered to Lois.
“I am calm, Euan. I am not afraid.”