that nothing
intervened between them and Fort Frontenac but a reach of still water
and the twining channels of the Thousand Islands, where it would call
for the sharpest eyes ever set in an Iroquois head to follow his
movements.

They ate an early supper, and immediately afterward Father Claude
slipped away. The maid looked after him a little wistfully, then she
wandered to the bank, and found a mossy seat where she could watch the
long rapid, with its driving, foaming current that dashed over the
ledges and leaped madly around the jagged rocks. Menard set his men at
work preparing the camp against attack. When this was well under way
he called Danton, who was lying by the fire, and spent an hour with
him conversing in Iroquois. By that time the twilight was creeping
down the river. Menard left the boy to form a speech in accord with
Iroquois tradition, and went on a tour of inspection about the camp.
The new men had swung thoroughly into the spirit of their work; one of
them was already on guard a short way back in the woods. The other men
were grouped in a cleared place, telling stories and singing.

Father Claude came hurriedly toward the fire, looking for Menard. His
eyes glowed with enthusiasm.

"M'sieu," he said, in an eager voice, "come. I have found it."

"What?"

"It has come to me,--about the canoe."

Menard looked puzzled, but the priest caught his arm, and led him
away.

"It came while we ate supper. The whole truth, the secret of the
allegory, flashed upon me. I have worked hard, and now it is done.
Instead of leaving out the canoe, I have put it back, and have placed
in it six warriors, three paddling toward the chapel, and three away
from it. Over them hovers an angel,--a mere suggestion, a faint,
shining face, a diaphanous form, and outspread hands. Thus we
symbolize the conflict in the savage mind at the first entrance of the
Holy Word into their lives, with the blessed assurance over all that
the Faith must triumph in the end."

At the last words, he stopped and drew Menard around to face the
portrait of the Lily of the Onondagas, which was leaning against a
stump.

"Is it too dark, M'sieu? See, I will bring it closer." He lifted the
picture, and held it close to Menard's eyes. He was trembling with the
excitement of his inspiration.

The Captain stepped back.

"I should like to know, Father, where you have had this picture."

"It was in my bundle. I have"--for the first time he saw th