ire for a woman. But that proved nothing. The weakest could
do that. It must be shown that I could justify my sacrifice.

These were irritations, yet they were but the surface of my suffering.
Underneath was the grinding, never-ceasing ache of anxiety. What was
happening at Michillimackinac? Would I reach there in time? I could
do nothing but sit and think. Always, from dawn to dusk, my impatient
spirit fretted and pushed at that canoe, but my hands were idle. I
tried paddling with my left hand, but it dislocated my bandages, and I
did not dare. I was in some pain, but exposed as I was, broiled by the
sun and drenched by showers, I yet mended daily. I ate well and drank
deep of the cold lake water and felt my strength come. My cut was
healing wholesomely without fever, and Pierre washed and bandaged it
twice a day. He told me with many a twist of his hanging lip that it
was well for me that he was there.

But on the point of his being there I had new light. It came one day
after long silence. The giant rested and wiped his forehead.

"There are plovers on the waters," he pointed. "They make good eating.
Singing Arrow can cook them with bear's grease. I am going to marry
the Indian when we get to Michillimackinac. Then when we reach
Montreal you will give her a dowry. There is the grain field on the
lower river that was planted by Martin. Martin has no wife. What does
he need of grain? The king wishes his subjects to marry. And if the
master gave us a house we could live, oh, very well. I thought of it
when I went through the Malhominis land and saw all those squashes.
The Indian sews her own dresses, and I shall tell her I do not like her
in finery. We will send a capon to the master every Christmas."

I grinned despite myself. I had grown fatuous, for I had taken it
without question that the oaf had followed from his loyalty to me. But
I nodded at him and promised recklessly--house, pigs, and granary. The
same star ruled master and man.

But the way was long, long, long. Nights came and days came, and still
more nights and days. Yet it ended at last. Late one afternoon we saw
the shore line that marked Michillimackinac. Once in sight it came
fast, fast, fast,--faster than I could prepare my courage for what
might meet me. What should I find?

We reached the beach where I had tied Father Carheil. We rounded the
point. The garrison, the board roofs of the Jesuit houses, the Indian