For a week Maballa had been dropping sly hints of a wonderful thing
which she and the factor's half-breed wife were making for the baby.
Jan had visions of a gorgeous garment covered with beads and gaudy
braid, which would give the little Melisse unending delight. On the
day before Cummins' arrival, Jan came in from chopping wood, and went
to the cot. It was empty. Maballa was gone. A sudden fear thrilled him
to the marrow, and he sprang back to the cabin door, ready to shriek
out the Indian woman's name.
A sound stopped him--the softest, sweetest sound in all the world to
Jan Thoreau--and he whirled around like a cat. Melisse was smiling and
making queer, friendly little signals to him from the table. She was
standing upright, wedged in a coffin-shaped thing from which only her
tiny white face peered out at him; and Jan knew that this was
Maballa's surprise, Melisse was in a papoose-sling!
"Melisse, I say you shall be no papoose!" he cried, running to the
table. "You ees ceevilize! You shall be no papoose--not if twen'
t'ous'nd devil come tak Jan Thoreau!"
And he snatched her from her prison, flung Maballa's handiwork out
into the snow, and waited impatiently for the return of John Cummins.
CHAPTER V
LOVE PATCHES
Cummins returned the next day--not that his work among the wild
trappers to the south was finished, but because he had suffered a hurt
in falling from a slippery ledge.
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