She remarked to Mrs.
Fowler, "How little everything has changed since I was here last, eight years ago, except at the settlement." The morning was a charming one, the river was running, fairly rushing up, otherwise all nature seemed to sleep.

The splash of the paddle, the ripple of the water along the sides of the canoe, and the gentle rolling of the little bark, were the only things that disturbed the quiet that reigned supreme all about.

The Indian never spoke, and Margaret and her companion, as they sat one ahead of the other in the bottom of the canoe, seldom exchanged a word.
Mrs.Godfrey saw at a glance that the canoe was nearing the place where Paul Guidon and his mother had once lived.

As she looked toward the shore her eyes rested upon a form standing at the water's edge, and as the canoe approached nearer and nearer the shore, she recognized the form as that of the pretty squaw she had met at the settlement the previous day.

Margaret Godfrey remarked to Mrs.Fowler, "There stands the pretty creature I met yesterday." Mrs.Fowler replied, "She does not look like the squaws we so often see about the settlement." She continued, "What a neat, tidy girl she is.