ost as sure it was wrong.

When they got to the wagon, he was still holding her arm. Gently she
pulled free of him.

"You're a good man, Auguste. I'm afraid I'll always love you. Whether
you want me to or not."

"Are you all right?" he asked. He wanted to make her happy, and he felt
terribly helpless.

"I will be," she said.

* * * * *

As he rode in the wagon back to the chateau with Marchette, the back of
Auguste's neck tingled. He pictured silent hunters crouched out in the
prairie, their Kentucky long rifles ready, their thoughts fixed on fifty
pieces of silver. His eyes moved restlessly over the low hills around
them. The nearly full moon was sinking before them in the west, a
lantern at the end of their trail. In some places the prairie grass
closed in around the horse and wagon, high as the horse's rump and the
wagon's wheels, and it looked to Auguste as if they were pushing their
way through a moonlit lake.

The loudest sound he heard was the steady singing of choruses of
crickets more numerous than all the tribes of man. Somehow it seemed
they always sang louder this time of year, as if they knew that frost
and snow were coming soon to silence their song.

The chateau's peaked roof rose black against the stars. Before they
reached the orchards, Auguste put his arm around Marchette and gave her
a kiss on the cheek. Jumping down from the wagon, he tied to his
shoulders with rawhide thongs the pack that held his medicine bundle,
his instruments and his book.

"Good-bye and thank you, Marchette," he whispered, and darted off into
the tall grass.

"God keep His eye upon you," she called softly after him.

Watching for Raoul's lurking hunters, he was soon past the chateau and
slipping along the edge of the road that led through the hills to town.

He froze. He saw a light ahead of him, a swinging lantern moving away
from him. Loud voices carried to him on the still night air.

Those must be some of Raoul's men. He was frightened, but he needed to
know what Raoul was doing. Staying well in the shadows of the trees that
grew along the edge of the road, he moved quickly and silently until he
was close enough to make out words.

They staggered along, praising Raoul's generosity with Old Kaintuck.
Auguste saw three of them in the lantern's yellow glow, each carrying a
rifle.

He bit his lower lip, and fear formed a cold hollow in his chest. If
these men saw him they would