s. The harvesters crowded about him at
once.

He lifted a hand. He was a tall priest and square-shouldered, with
the broad brow and set square chin of a fighting man.

"My children," he announced in a voice clear as a bell, "it is
certain there has been a great battle at Fort Carillon. The English
came on, four to one, gnashing their teeth like devils of the pit.
But the host of the faithful stood firm and overcame them, and now
they are flying southward whence they came. Let thanks be given to
God who giveth us the victory!"

The men bared their heads.

"When I met 'Polyte Latulippe and young Damase on my way down the
river, I could scarcely believe their tale. But the Ojibway puts it
beyond doubt; and the few answers I could win from the wounded
sergeant all confirm the story."

"His name, Father?" asked La Marmite. "We can get nothing out of
Dominique Guyon, who keeps his tongue as close as his fist."

"His name is a Clive, and he is of the regiment of Beam. He has come
near to death's door, poor fellow, and still lies too near to it for
talking. But I think he is strong enough to bear carrying up to Fort
Amitie, where the Seigneur--who, by the way, sends greeting to you
all--"

"And our salutations go back to him. Would he were here to-day to
see the harvest carried!"

"The Seigneur, having heard what 'Polyte and Damase have to tell,
will desire to hear more of this glorious fight. For myself, I must
hasten down to Montreal, where I have a message to deliver, and
perhaps I may reach there with these tidings also before the boats,
which are coming up by way of the Richelieu. Therefore I am going to
borrow Dominique Guyon of you, to pilot me down through the Roches
Fendues. And talking of Dominique"--here the Jesuit laid a hand on
the shoulder of the young man, who bent his eyes to the ground--
"you complain that he is close, eh? How often, my children, must I
ask you to judge a brother by his virtues? To which of you did it
occur, when these men came, to send 'Polyte and Damase up to Fort
Amitie with their news? No one has told me: yet I will wager it was
Dominique Guyon. Who sat up, the night through, with this wounded
stranger? Dominique Guyon. Who has been about the field all day, as
though to have missed a night's sleep were no excuse for shirking the
daily task? Dominique Guyon. Again, to whom do I turn now to steer
me down the worst fall in the river? To Dominique Guyon. He will