They were in no want of provisions, as, not knowing when they might
return, they had taken a good supply of bread and dried venison, not
wishing to loose any precious time in seeking food while on the trail.
The brandy still remaining in their flasks, they preserved for the use
of their captive. The evening of the following day, they reached the
trapper's hut, where they were not a little surprised to find Susan. She
told them that, although John Wilton had begged her to live with them,
she could not bear to leave the spot where everything reminded her of
one to think of whom was now her only consolation; and that, while she
had Nero, she feared nothing. They needed not to tell their mournful
tale--Susan already understood it but too clearly. She begged them to
leave the Indian woman with her. "You have no one," said she, "to tend
and watch her as I can do; besides, it is not right that I should lay
such a burden on you." Although unwilling to impose on her mind the
painful task of nursing her husband's murderess, they could not allow
but that she was right; and seeing how earnestly she desired it, at last
consented to leave the Indian woman with her.

For many weeks Susan nursed her charge, as tenderly as if it had been
her sister. At first she lay almost motionless, and rarely spoke; then
she grew delirious, and raved wildly. Susan fortunately could not
understand what she said, but often turned shuddering away, when the
Indian woman would strive to rise from her bed, and move her arms, as if
drawing a bow; or yell wildly, and cower in terror beneath the
clothes--reacting in her delirium the fearful scenes through which she
had passed. By degrees reason returned; she gradually got better, but
seemed restless and unhappy, and could not bear the sight of Nero. The
first proof of returning reason she had shown, was a shriek of terror
when he once accidentally followed his mistress into the room where she
lay. One morning Susan missed her; she searched around the hut, but she