ou've taken it out."

"Yes; it seemed best, considering the danger that others might feel
the same doubts which troubled you."

"I wouldn't do that. The canoe was all right, once the direction were
decided on."

"Above all else, the true portrait should convey to the mind of the
observer the impression that a single, an unmistakable purpose
underlies the work. When one considers--"

"Very true, Father, very true," said Menard abruptly, looking about at
the beginning of the twilight. "And now we had better get back. The
supper will be ready."

Menard strode away toward the camp. Father Claude watched him for a
time through the trees, then turned again to the picture. Finally he
got together his materials, and carrying them in a fold of his gown,
with the picture in his left hand, he followed Menard.

The maid was leaning back against the tree, looking up at the sky,
where the first red of the afterglow was spreading. She did not hear
Menard; and he paused, a few yards away, to look at the clear
whiteness of her skin and the full curve of her throat. Her figure and
air, her habits of gesture and step, and carriage of the head, were
those of the free-hearted maid of the seignory. They told of an
outdoor life, of a good horse, and a light canoe, and the inbred love
of trees and sky and running water. Here was none of the stiffness,
the more than Parisian manner, of the maidens of Quebec. To stand
there and look at her, unconscious as she was, pleased Menard.

"Mademoiselle," he said, coming nearer, "will you join us at supper?"

The maid looked at him with a slow blush (she was not yet accustomed
to the right of these men to enter into the routine of her life).
Menard reached to help her, but she rose easily.

"Lieutenant Danton is not here?"

"No, M'sieu, he walked away."

They sat about a log. Danton had not strayed far, for he joined them
shortly, wearing a sulky expression. Menard looked about the group.
The maid was silent. Father Claude was beginning at once on the food
before him. The twilight was growing deeper, and Guerin dragged a log
to the fire, throwing it on the pile with a shower of sparks, and half
a hundred shooting tongues of flame. The Captain looked again at
Danton, and saw that the boy's glance shifted uneasily about the
group. Altogether it was an unfortunate start for his plan. But it was
clear that no other would break the ice, so he drew a long breath, and
plunged doggedly into the sto