ac was breathing heavily. "You mean"--he asked.

I spoke slowly. "I mean," I said, "that they must either go over to the
English themselves, or succeed in embroiling us with the English."

"And they chose?"

"They did not choose. They temporized. They see the advantages of a
union with the English. A better beaver market, and plenty of brandy.
It goes hard with them that we are frugal with our muskets, while the
English keep the Iroquois well armed. Longuant says, and justly, that it
is difficult to kill men with clubs. On the other hand they like us, and
find the English abhorrent. So they have virtually agreed to leave the
casting vote with you. They will come after sundown and demand that the
prisoner be given them for torture. If you agree, they will feel that
you have declared your position against the English; if you refuse"----
I broke off, and leaned back in the chair. I had not realized, till my
own voice stated it, how black a case we had in hand.

We sat in silence for a time. Cadillac scowled and beat his palm upon
his knee as a flail beats grain, and I knew he needed no words of mine.
I thought that he was going over his defenses in his mind, and I began to
calculate how many rounds of shot I had in my canoes, and to hope that my
men would not prove cravens. I knew, without argument with myself, that
the beaver lands did not need me half as much as I was needed here.

At length Cadillac looked up. "Do you think the prisoner is a spy?" he
asked.

I had dreaded this question. "I am afraid so, but judge of him yourself.
He speaks French."

Cadillac half rose. "He speaks French? Yet he is an Englishman?"

I nodded. "Undoubtedly an Englishman."

"And you made nothing of him?"

I could only shake my head. "Nothing. He tells the story that I should
tell if I were lying,--yet he may be telling the truth. He is a bundle
of inconsistencies; that may be nature or art. He may be a hot-headed
youth, who knows nothing beyond his own bitterness over his capture, or
he may be a clever actor. I do not know."

Cadillac gave a long breath that was near a sigh. "Poor soul!" he said
unexpectedly. "Well, spy or otherwise, it matters little for the few
hours remaining."

I caught his arm across the table. "Cadillac!" I cried, with an oath.
"You would not do that!"

He shook off my hand, and looked at me with more regret than anger. "I
am the rat in the trap," he said simply. "What did yo