cision to return right,
Rene?"

"Ay, right; would that I might be with you. But what plan did M. de
Tonty outline for me to follow?"

"'Twas what I started to tell. At the edge of the water, but concealed
from the river by rocks, is a small hut where we keep hidden a canoe
ready fitted for any secret service. 'Twas Sieur de la Salle's thought
that it might prove of great use in time of siege. No doubt it is
there now just as we left it, undiscovered of the Iroquois. This will
bear you down the river until daylight, when you can hide along
shore."

"There is a rifle?"

"Two of them, with powder and ball." He laid his hand on the other's
shoulder. "There is nothing more to say, and time is of value.
Farewell, my friend."

"Farewell," their fingers clasped. "There will be other days,
Francois; my gratitude to M. de Tonty." Boisrondet stepped back, and,
hat in hand, bowed to me.

"Adieu, Madame; a pleasant journey."

"A moment, Monsieur," I said, a falter in my voice. "You are M. de
Artigny's friend, an officer of France, and a Catholic."

"Yes, Madame."

"And you think that I am right in my choice? that I am doing naught
unworthy of my womanhood?"

Even in the darkness I saw him make the symbol of the cross, before he
bent forward and kissed my hand.

"Madame," he said gravely, "I am but a plain soldier, with all my
service on the frontier. I leave to the priests the discussion of
doctrines, and to God my punishment and reward. I can only answer you
as De Artigny's friend, and an officer of France. I give you honor,
and respect, and deem your love and trust far more holy than your
marriage. My faith, and my sword are yours, Madame."

I felt his lips upon my hand, yet knew not he had gone. I stood there,
my eyes blinded with tears at his gallant words, only becoming
conscious of his disappearance, when De Artigny drew me to him, his
cheek pressed against my hair.

"He has gone! we are alone!"

"Yes, dear one; but I thank God for those last words. They have given
me courage, and faith. So my old comrades believe us right the
criticism of others does not move me. You love me, Adele? you do not
regret?"

My arms found way about his neck; my lips uplifted to his.

"Monsieur, I shall never regret; I trust God, and you."

How he ever found his way along that dim trail I shall never know.
Some memory of its windings, together with the instinct of a woodsman,
must have given guidance, while no doubt his fee