it shall serve. And you follow to-morrow?"

Cadillac gave a trumpeting laugh. "Yes, tomorrow. I shall take a
hundred men and leave a hundred here for guard. I have made
arrangements. Longuant leads the Ottawas, and old Kondiaronk the loyal
Hurons. Where shall we meet you?"

"I cannot tell. Stop at the Pottawatamie Islands and Onanguisse will
know. Keep watch of Pemaou. He will make trouble if he can."

Cadillac looked at the horizon. "Montlivet, I have bad news. Pemaou
has gone."

"Gone! Where?"

"I don't know. To the Seneca camp, probably. His canoes have just
left."

I tapped the ground. I was tired and angry. "You should have
prevented such a possibility," I let myself say.

But he kept his temper. "What could I have done?" he asked quietly.
"I have no authority in my garrison."

I regretted my outburst. "You could not have done anything," I
hastened. "And if Pemaou has indeed gone to the Senecas, it is good
news for me. I am impatient for a meeting with him that I did not dare
have here for fear of entangling myself and losing time. I shall hope
for an encounter in the west. And now I am away, monsieur."

I wished to leave with as little stir as possible, so Pierre took the
canoe around the point, and I joined him there. To reach the
rendezvous I walked through the old maize field where I had met the
English captive. It had been moonlight then. Now it was hot noon, and
the waves of light made me faint. I had forgotten breakfast. I cursed
myself at the omission, for I needed strength.

But I was not to leave quite unattended. When I reached the canoe, I
found Father Carheil talking to Singing Arrow. I was glad to see him.
There was something that propped my pride and courage in his irritable,
tender greeting.

He pressed a vial into my hands. "It is confection of Jacinth. It has
great virtue. Take it with you, my son."

I knelt. "I would rather take your blessing, father."

He gave it to me, and his old hands trembled. "Come back, my son.
Come back safely. You will return this way?"

I looked off at the blue, beckoning west. "I do not know, father. I
go without ties or responsibilities. I am not sure where I shall end.
I doubt that I return this way."

"But where, my son? Where do you go?"

I pointed, and his mystic glance followed my hand. "Out there in the
blue, father,--somewhere. I don't know where. It has beckoned you
thus far; can you resist its cr