"Crawl under!" M. Radisson lifted the prow.

From very shame--I think it was--Godefroy balked; but M. Radisson
brought a cutting rap across the rascal's heels that made him hop. The
canoe clapped down, and Godefroy was safe. "Pardieu," mutters
Radisson, "such cowards would turn the marrow o' men's bones to butter!"

Sitting on a log, with his feet to the fire, he motioned Jean and me to
come into the shelter of the slant canvas; for the clouds were rolling
overhead black as ink and the wind roared up the river-bed with a wall
of pelting rain. M. Radisson gazed absently into the flame. The steel
lights were at play in his eyes, and his lips parted.

"Storm and cold--man and beast--powers of darkness and devil--knaves
and fools and his own sins--he must fight them all, lads," says M.
Radisson slowly.

"Who must fight them all?" asks Jean.

"The victor," answers Radisson, and warm red flashed to the surface of
the cold steel in his eyes.

"Jean," he began, looking up quickly towards the gathering darkness of
the woods.

"Sir?"

"'Tis cold enough for hunters to want a fire."

"Is the fire not big enough?"

"Now, where are your wits, lad? If hunters were hiding in that bush,
one could see this fire a long way off. The wind is loud. One could
go close without being heard. Pardieu, I'll wager a good scout could
creep up to a log like this"--touching the pine on which we sat---"and
hear every word we are saying without a soul being the wiser!"

Jean turned with a start, half-suspecting a spy. Radisson laughed.

"Must I spell it out? Eh, lad, afraid to go?"

The taunt bit home. Without a word Jean and I rose.

"Keep far enough apart so that one of you will escape back with the
news," called Radisson, as we plunged into the woods.

Of the one who might not escape Pierre Radisson gave small heed, and so
did we. Jean took the river side and I the inland thicket, feeling our
way blindly through the blackness of forest and storm and night. Then
the rain broke--broke in lashing whip-cords with the crackle of fire.
Jean whistled and I signalled back; but there was soon such a pounding
of rains it drowned every sound. For all the help one could give the
other we might have been a thousand miles apart. I looked back. M.
Radisson's fire threw a dull glare into the cavernous upper darkness.
That was guide enough. Jean could keep his course by the river.

It was plunging into a black nowhere. The tr