mmer of his musket,
which had been rusted by the damp. After a time the maid looked toward
him.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"I don't know," Danton replied. "They were going up-stream in a canoe,
I suppose. Probably he thinks they can give us some information."

In a few minutes, during which the mist was clearing under the rays of
the sun, the two canoes together came around a wooded point and
beached. The Indians walked silently to the fire. They appeared not to
see Danton and the maid. Menard paused to look over his canoe. It was
leaking badly, and before joining the group at the fire, he set the
canoemen at work making a new patch.

[Illustration: "The Indians walked silently to the fire."]

"Danton," he said, in a low tone, when he reached the fire, "find the
Father."

Danton hurried away, and Menard turned to the largest of the three
Indians, who wore the brightest blanket, and had a peculiar wampum
collar, decorated in mosaic-like beadwork.

"You are travellers, like ourselves," he said, in the Iroquois tongue.
"We cannot let you pass without a word of greeting. I see that you are
of the Onondagas, my brothers. It may be that you are from the Mission
at the Sault St. Francis Xavier?"

The Indian bowed. "We go from Three Rivers to Montreal."

"I, too, am taking my party to Montreal." Menard thought it wise to
withhold the further facts of his journey. "Have you brothers at Three
Rivers?"

"No," replied the Indian. "We have been sent with a paper from the
Superior at Sault St. Francis Xavier to the good fathers at Three
Rivers. Now we are on our return to the Mission."

"Have my brothers eaten?" Menard motioned toward the fire. "It is
still early in the day."

The three bowed. "We are travelling fast," said the spokesman, "for
the Superior awaits our return. We ate before the light. It will soon
be time for us to go on our journey."

Menard saw Father Claude and Danton approaching, and waited for them.
The face of the large Indian seemed like some other face that had had
a place in his memory. It was not unlikely that he had known this
warrior during his captivity, when half a thousand braves had been to
him as brothers. The Indian was apparently of middle age, and had
lines of dignity and authority in his face that made it hard to accept
him as a subdued resident at the Mission. But Menard knew that no sign
of doubt or suspicion must appear in his face, so he waited for the
priest. The India