ittle,--a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes. "I am
not, like you, a gentleman by birth, monsieur," he said slowly, "and so
often trip in my behavior. Granted that you were amusing,--and you
were, monsieur,--can you blame me for using you for a diversion? I
infer that you have come to tell me that the time left me, either for
amusement or penitence, is short."

It was bravely said, but I knew from the careful repression of his tone
that his hardness was a brittle veneer. He was young to carry so bold
a front when his heart must be hammering, and I would willingly have
talked any doggerel to have afforded him another smile.

"I know nothing of your future," I hastened, "save that, arguing from
your youth, it will probably be a long one. It was your past that I
was sent to ask concerning. The commandant sent me. Since you speak
French, my mission is over. The commandant will come himself."

The prisoner laid his hand upon a chair. "Will you sit? I would
rather it be you than the commandant, if it must be any one. What were
you sent to ask?"

I waved away the chair, for I thought of the passing moments and of
what I had promised Father Carheil. "I must hasten," I said irritably.
"What was I to ask? Why, your name, the account of your capture,--the
story of your being here, in brief."

He saw that I glanced at the door, and he walked over to it. "Wait!"
he interposed. "I can answer you in a line. But one question first.
Monsieur, I--I"--

"Yes, monsieur."

"Monsieur, I--I must think a moment. Be patient, if you will."

His voice was calm, but there was something in his look that forced my
pity. "Tell me nothing that I must not tell the commandant," I warned.
"But be assured of my good will."

I think he did not hear. He sat with his forehead on his hand, and I
knew that he was thinking. He looked up with a new decision in his
glance.

"Monsieur, you lead a strange life in this place. I see nothing but
men. Have you no families?"

I swore under my breath. I had expected some meat from his remark, and
he gave me trivialities. I had no time for social preliminaries, and I
felt sudden distaste for him. I pointed him to the window.

"We are not all men. There are Indian women in plenty. Shall I draw
the shade that you may see? There are many of my countrymen to tell
you that they find them fair."

"But are there no white families in the settlement?" He was leaning
forward, and