shion I could mistake you for the chaplain of the fort."

"Monsieur Corlaer, I have not forgot one look of yours. I was a great
trouble to you with, my wounds, and my hiding and fever. And what pains
you took to put me on board the ship in the night! It would be better
indeed to see me at Montreal than ever in such plight again at Fort
Orange, Monsieur Corlaer!"

"Glad would we be to have you at Fort Orange again, without pain to
yourself, Father Jogues."

"And how is my friend who so much enjoyed disputing about religion?"

"Our dominie is well, and sent by my hand his hearty greeting to that
very learned scholar Father Jogues. We heard you had come back from
France."

Van Corlaer dropped one hand on the donne's shoulder and leaned down to
examine his smiling face.

"It is my brother Lalande, the donne of this present mission," said the
priest.

"My young monsieur," said Van Corlaer, "keep Father Jogues out of the
Mohawks' mouths henceforth. They have really no stomach for religion,
though they will eat saints. It often puzzles a Dutchman to handle that
Iroquois nation."

"Our lives are not our own," said the young Frenchman.

"We must bear the truth whether it be received or not," said Father
Jogues.

"Whatever errand brought you into Acadia," said Van Corlaer, turning
back to the priest, "I am glad to find you here, for I shall now have
your company back to Montreal."

"Impossible, Monsieur Corlaer. For I have set out to plant a mission
among the Abenakis. They asked for a missionary. Our guides deserted us,
and we have wandered off our course and been obliged to throw away
nearly all the furniture of our mission. But we now hope to make our way
along the coast."

"Father Jogues, the Abenakis are all gone northward. We passed through
their towns on the Penobscot."

"But they will come back?"

"Some time, though no man at Penobscot would be able to say when."

Father Jogues' perplexed brows drew together. Wanderings, hunger, and
imprisonment he could bear serenely as incidents of his journey. But to
have his flock scattered before he could reach it was real calamity.

"We must make shift to follow them," he said.

"How will you follow them without supplies, and without knowing where
they may turn in the woods?"

"I see we shall have to wait for them at Penobscot," said Father Jogues.

"Take a heretic's advice instead. For I speak not as the enemy of your
religion when I urge you to journey wit