Was he watching the bobcat all the time? Was
the danger much more serious than he would own?
"Why don't you look at me?" cried the girl, at length. "I'm
awfully much obliged to you for coming to help me as you did.
And my uncle will want to thank you I am sure. Won't you tell me
your name?"
The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice
was lower and there was an indescribably sad note in it.
"Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know
Injun Pete. No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac
goin' make scholar of Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He
go teach among he's mudder's people. Mudder Micmac, fadder wild
Frinchman come to dees lakeshore. But nev-air can Pete be
Teacher, be priest. Non, non! Jes' Injun Pete."
Nan suddenly remembered what little Margaret Llewellen had said
about the fire at Pale Lick, and "Injun Pete." The fact that
this man kept his face turned from her all this time aroused her
suspicion. She was deeply, deeply grateful to him for what he
had just done for her, and, naturally, she enlarged in her mind
the peril in which she had been placed.
Margaret had suggested this unfortunate half-breed was "not right
in his head" because of the fire which had disfigured him.
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