Brit she did not see at all.

She searched the bushes, looked under the wagon, and called and called.
A full-voiced shout answered her from farther up the canyon, and she ran stumbling toward the sound, too agonized to shed tears or to think very clearly.

It was not her father's voice; she knew that beyond all doubt.
It was no voice that she had ever heard before.

It had a clear resonance that once heard would not have been easily forgotten.

When she saw them finally, her father was being propped up in a half-sitting position, and the strange man was holding something to his lips.
"Just a little water.