escaped
destruction by a hair's-breadth. The Cedars had been worse even than
the Long Saut. They laughed and boasted, wringing their clothes.
The nearest flung questions at Dominique, at Bateese. The Cascades,
they understood, were the worst in the whole chain of rapids, always
excepting the La Chine. But the La Chine were not to be attempted;
the army would land above them, at Isle Perrot perhaps, or at the
village near the falls, and cover the last nine or ten miles on foot.
But what of the Buisson? and of the Roches Fendues?

More than an hour passed in this clamour, and still the boats
continued to crowd around. The first-comers, having baled, were
looking to their accoutrements, testing the powder in their flasks,
repolishing the locks and barrels of their muskets. "To be sure La
Corne and his militiamen had disappeared, but there was still room
for a skirmish between this and Lake St. Louis; if he had posted
himself on the bank below, he might prove annoying. The rapids were
bad enough without the addition of being fired upon during the
descent, when a man had work enough to hold tight by the gunwale and
say his prayers. Was the General sending a force down to clear La
Corne out?"

"Diane!"

A crowd of soldiers had gathered on the bank, shutting out all view
of the Seigniory. Diane, turning at the sound of her uncle's voice,
saw the men make way, and caught her breath. He was not alone.
He came through the press triumphantly, dragging by the hand an
Indian--an Indian who hung back from the river's brink with eyes
averted, fastened on the ground--the man whom, of all men, she most
feared to meet.

"Diane, the General has been telling me--this honest fellow--we have
been most remiss--"

M. Etienne panted as he picked his steps down the bank. His face was
glowing.

"--He understands a little French, it seems. I have the General's
permission to give him a seat in our boat. He tells me he is averse
to being thanked, but that is nonsense. I insisted on his coming."

"You have thanked me once already, monsieur," urged John a Cleeve in
a voice as low as he could pitch it.

"But not sufficiently. You hear, Diane?--he speaks French! I was
confused at the time; I did not gather--"

She felt Dominique's eyes upon her. Was her face so white then?
He must not guess. . . . She held out her hand, commanding her voice
to speak easily, wondering the while at the sound of it.

"Welcome, my friend. M