n the shutter and assist him to enter by the window.
When he had got him safely inside he embraced the lad fervently, and
kissed him on both cheeks. Then he said, "Thy uncle has been ill and
is still weak; but if thy business is indeed as urgent as thou
representest, I will instantly acquaint him with thy presence. I must,
however, break the glad tidings gently and gradually to him, for fear
of the effect of an overdose of joy."

So the good man shuffled away in his loose slippers towards the room in
which Laudonniere lay, and without his knowledge, Rene followed him
closely.

In the commandant's room Le Moyne began with,

"Monsieur, I have a message from the dead."

"Ay, thou wert always a dreamer," replied the sick man, testily.

"Nay, but this time it is no dream, but a living reality."

"Then the dead have come to life, and thou hast had dealings not with
them, but with the living."

"It is even so, and he is one very dear to thee, whom thou hast deemed
lost."

"What sayest thou?" cried the old chevalier, sitting up in bed in his
excitement. "One dear to me, whom I deemed lost, and is now restored?
It can be none other than Rene, my son. Where is he? Why tarries he
from me?"

"He tarries not, uncle!" exclaimed a glad voice at the door, and in
another moment uncle and nephew were locked in a close embrace, while
sympathetic tears of joy stood in the eyes of the good Le Moyne.

As briefly as possible, and reserving the details for another occasion,
Rene told his uncle that he had visited the land of the Alachuas, and
had returned with twelve canoe-loads of corn, for which he had promised
in his name twelve packages of trinkets such as he described, and the
safe dismissal of their escort from the fort. He added that those who
had come with him wished to depart that very night, and even now
awaited him at the water gate.

"Alas!" exclaimed Laudonniere, when this had been told him, "I have no
longer the power to make good thy word. While I have lain here as
helpless as one struck with a palsy, another has assumed command; for
know thou, my dear lad, that Fort Caroline and all it contains has
passed into the hands of a body of mutineers, headed by none other than
thy old friend Simon, the armorer. Go thou to him, and I doubt not he
will treat with these friends of thine even as thou hast promised; for
provisions such as thou sayest await even now an entrance to the fort
are too rare a commodity withi