ith Mademoiselle? She takes little impression from the kindness of
those about her."

"Oh, come, Danton. You know better. Even a boy of your age should see
deeper than that. You think she slights you; very likely she does.
What of that? You are not here to be drawn into a boy-and-girl quarrel
with a maid who chances to share our canoe. You are here as my aid, to
make the shortest time possible between Quebec and Frontenac. If she
were to fall sick, we should be delayed. Therefore she must not fall
sick."

Danton had plucked a weed, and now was pulling it to pieces, bit by
bit.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stop this moping, this hanging about. Take hold of the matter. Devise
talks, diversions; fill her idle moments; I care not what you
do,--within limits, my boy, within limits."

"Oh," said Danton, "then you really want me to?"

"Certainly. I am too old myself."

Danton rose, and walked a few steps away and back.

"But she will have none of me, Menard. It is, 'No, with thanks,' or,
worse, a shake of the head. If I offer to help, if I try to talk, if
I--oh, it is always the same. I am tired of it."

Menard smiled in the dark.

"Is that your reply to an order from your superior officer, Danton?"

The boy stood silent for a moment, then he said, "I beg your pardon,
Captain." And with a curious effort at stiffness he wandered off among
the trees, and was soon out of Menard's sight.

Menard walked slowly down to the fire, opened his pack, and spreading
out his blanket, rolled himself in it with his feet close to the red
embers. For a long time he lay awake. This episode took him back
nearly a decade, to a time when he, like Danton, would have lost his
poise at a glance from the nearest pair of eyes. That the maid should
so interest him was in itself amusing. Had she been older or younger,
had she been any but the timid, honest little woman that she was, he
would have left her, without a second thought, in the care of the
Commandant at Montreal, to be escorted through the rapids by some
later party. But he had fixed his mind on getting her to Frontenac,
and the question was settled. His last thought that night was of her
quiet laughter and her friendly, hesitating "good-night."

He was awakened in the half light before the sunrise by a step on the
twigs. At a little distance through the trees was the maid, walking
down toward the water. She slipped easily between the briers, holding
her skirt close. From a