ood and leaves
burning, from a hundred smouldering fires. Father Claude stood for a
long time gazing at the row of huts, and wondering that such an air of
peace and happiness could hover over a den of brute savages, who were
even at the moment planning to torture to his death one of the bravest
sons of New France.

While he meditated, he was half conscious of voices near at hand. He
gave it no attention until his quick ear caught a French word. He
started, and hurried to the hut, pausing in the door. By the dim light
of the fire, that burned each night in the centre of the floor, he
could see Mademoiselle standing against the wall, with hands clasped
and lips parted. Nearer, with his back to the door, stood an Indian.

The maid saw the Father, but did not speak. He came forward into the
hut, and gently touched the Indian's arm.

"What is it?" he asked in Iroquois.

The Indian stood, without a reply, until the silence grew heavy.
Mademoiselle had straightened up, and was watching with fascinated
eyes. Then, slowly, the warrior turned, and beneath buckskin and
feathers, dirt and smeared colours, the priest recognized Danton. He
turned sadly to the maid.

"I do not understand," he said.

She put her hands before her eyes. "I cannot talk to him," she said,
in a broken voice. "Why does he come? Why must I--" Then she collected
herself, and came forward. Pity and dignity were in her voice. "I am
sorry, Lieutenant Danton. I am very sorry."

The boy choked, and Father Claude drew him, unresisting, outside the
hut.

"How did you come here, Danton? Tell me."

Danton looked at him defiantly.

"What does this mean? Where did you get these clothes?"

"It matters not where I got them. It is my affair."

"Who gave you these clothes?"

"It is enough that I have friends, if those whom I thought friends
will not aid me."

The priest was pained by the boy's rough words.

"I am sorry for this, my son,--for this strange disorder. Did you not
receive a message from your Captain?"

Danton hesitated. "Yes," he said at last. "I received a message,--an
order to lie quiet, and let these red beasts burn me to death. Menard
is a fool. Does he not know that they will kill him? Does he not know
that this is his only chance to escape? He is a fool, I say."

"You forget, my son."

"Well, if I do? Must I stay here for the torture because my Captain
commands? Why do you hold me here? Let me go. They will be after me."

"Wait, Da