not often use. "Why should I go quietly?" he asked.
"My errand is righteous. It is only black work that needs the cover of
a silent tongue. My son, you are letting your men abduct Singing
Arrow. Did your promise to me count for so little in your mind?"

I bowed, and mumbled something meaningless to gain time. I was not
clear as to my course. "Why do you think that we have Singing Arrow?"
I blurted out finally.

"Pemaou told me."

Pemaou again! But we had tricked him. I grinned with joy to think of
him with his nose still rooted close to the deserted hole. I could
almost forgive him for the trouble he was causing now.

"Pemaou lied," I said cheerfully. "Singing Arrow is not with us,
Father Carheil. Will you go back now? My mission is urgent and
demands secrecy."

He looked at the ground. "You swear to this? You swear that Singing
Arrow is not with you?"

I laid my hand on my sword, and bared my head. "I swear."

He turned away. "You seem a gentleman," he said reluctantly. "I
regret that I troubled you. I wish you fair winds, monsieur."

Beshrew me, but the man could get close to my heart. "Thank you,
father," I cried earnestly. "I wish that I might requite your trust
with greater candor. But, in the end, I hope to justify my means. I
would that I might have your blessing on my mission and my cargo."

Blockhead that I was, not to have let well enough alone. For I was to
blame for what followed. I may have grown unconsciously rhetorical,
and waved my hand in the direction of the canoes. I do not know. I do
know that at the word "cargo" Father Carheil turned and looked toward
the shore. There, in my canoe, with gaze searching the timber where I
had disappeared, stood a figure,--a woman's figure in Singing Arrow's
dress and blanket.

Father Carheil looked at me. He did not speak; it was not necessary.
I endured his gaze for a moment, then sold my prudence to save my
honor. I laid my finger on the priest's arm.

"Come with me to the canoes," I demanded. "If you find yourself in the
wrong, it may teach you to trust a man's word against your own
eyesight."

He assented. We walked swiftly across the moon-lighted open, and I had
scant time for fear. Yet I was afraid. I could give the Englishman no
helping hand, no word of warning. Would he rise to the moment?

He did. He turned his back upon us, Indian-fashion, and squatted in
his blanket. He lost all suggestion of Singing Arro