So it was that my restless mind dwelt rather upon other matters more directly personal.
I could not put away the thought of the half-seen girl flitting about amid the dusk of the Pottawattomie camp, especially as Captain Heald had declared her to be Elsa Matherson.

I was surprised to discover that she I sought, instead of being a mere child, was a woman grown; for in this we were all deceived by the words of her father.

What did she there, passing with such apparent freedom from restraint among those fierce warriors?
and how was I ever to reach her with any hope of rescue, even if she desired it?
There was evidently a mystery here which I could never solve through idle musing; and yet I could but ask myself where lay my graver duty,--beside this single woman, who seemingly needed no defender, or with the many helpless ones who must march forth on the morrow on that long and dangerous passage through the wilderness?
Indeed, what hope could I cherish of aiding the young girl, if I now deserted these others, and endeavored alone to penetrate that Indian camp in search of her?
Then came another thought.

It was of Mademoiselle.
It was this that effectually halted me.

To whomsoever else she might have given her heart, she was still the one for whom I was most glad either to live or die; and in spite of De Croix, I would ride at her side on the morrow, within striking distance of any prowling hostile.
Let the Matherson girl wait; my arm belonged first of all to the defence of Mademoiselle.
Busied with these thoughts, and endeavoring to adjust this decision with my conscience, I passed out upon the platform, that I might look forth once more upon the moonlit waters of the lake.