coherently. He soon excused himself and wandered off among the trees
and the thick bushes.

During the next day Danton was in one of his sullen moods. He worked
feverishly, and, with the maid, kept Father Claude occupied for the
greater part of the time, as they paddled on, with conversation, and
with discussion of the Iroquois words. The maid felt the change from
the easy relations in the party, and seemed a little depressed, but
she threw herself into the studying. Often during the day she would
take up a paddle, and join in the stroke. At first Menard protested,
but she laughed, and said that it was a "rest" after sitting so long.

They were delayed on the following day by a second accident to the
canoe, so that they were a full day late in reaching Montreal. They
moved slowly up the channel, past the islands and the green banks with
their little log-houses or, occasionally, larger dwellings built after
the French manner. St. Helen's Island, nearly opposite the city, had a
straggling cluster of hastily built bark houses, and a larger group of
tents where the regulars were encamped, awaiting the arrival of
Governor Denonville with the troops from Quebec.

Menard stopped at the island, guiding the canoe to the bank where a
long row of canoes and bateaux lay close to the water.

"You might get out and walk around," he said to the others. "I shall
be gone only a few moments."

Father Claude sat on the bank, lost in meditation. Danton and the maid
walked together slowly up and down, beyond earshot from the priest.
Since Menard's rebuke, both the lad and the maid had shown a slight
trace of resentment. It did not come out in their conversation, but
rather in their silences, and in the occasions which they took to sit
and walk apart from the others. It was as if a certain common ground
of interest had come to them. The maid, for all her shyness and even
temper, was not accustomed to such cool authority as Menard was
developing. The priest was keeping an eye on the fast-growing
acquaintanceship, and already had it vaguely in mind to call it to the
attention of Menard, who was getting too deeply into the spirit and
the details of his work to give much heed.

Menard was soon back.

"Push off," he said. "The Major is not here. We shall have to look for
him in the city."

They headed across the stream. The city lay before them, on its gentle
slope, with the mountain rising behind like an untiring sentry. It was
early i