n his face.
"Ay, an old comrade, indeed, and only less welcome here than M. de la
Salle himself. 'Twas a bold trick you played tonight, but not unlike
many another I have seen you venture. You bring me message from
Monsieur?"

"Only that he has sailed safely for France to have audience with
Louis. I saw him aboard ship, and was bidden to tell you to bide here
in patience, and seek no quarrel with De Baugis."

"Easy enough to say; but in all truth I need not seek quarrel--it
comes my way without seeking. De Baugis was not so bad--a bit high
strung, perhaps, and boastful of his rank, yet not so ill a
comrade--but there is a newcomer here, a popinjay named Cassion, with
whom I cannot abide. Ah, but you know the beast, for you journeyed
west in his company. _Sacre_! the man charged you with murder, and I
gave him the lie to his teeth. Not two hours ago we had our swords
out, but now you can answer for yourself."

De Artigny hesitated, his eyes meeting mine.

"I fear, Monsieur de Tonty," he said finally, "the answer may not be
so easily made. If it were point of sword now, I could laugh at the
man, but he possesses some ugly facts difficult to explain."

"Yet 'twas not your hand which did the deed?"

"I pledge you my word to that. Yet this is no time to talk of the
matter. I have wounds to be looked to, and would learn first how
Barbeau fares. You know not the lady; but of course not, or your
tongue would never have spoken so freely--Monsieur de Tonty, Madame
Cassion."

He straightened up, his eyes on my face. For an instant he stood
motionless; then swept the hat from his head, and bent low.

"Your pardon, Madame; we of the wilderness become rough of speech. I
should have known, for a rumor reached me of your accident. You owe
life, no doubt, to Sieur de Artigny."

"Yes, Monsieur; he has been my kind friend."

"He would not be the one I love else. We know men on this frontier,
Madame, and this lad hath seen years of service by my side." His hand
rested on De Artigny's shoulder. "'Twas only natural then that I
should resent M. Cassion's charge of murder."

"I share your faith in the innocence of M. de Artigny," I answered
firmly enough, "but beyond this assertion I can say nothing."

"Naturally not, Madame. Yet we must move along. You can walk, Rene?"

"Ay, my hurts are mostly bruises."

The torches led the way, the dancing flames lighting up the scene.
There was hard, packed earth under our feet, nor did I