FOUR

For a moment John Adare stood like an avenging demon in the midst of
the startled faces of the forest men. His shaggy hair blew out from
under his gray lynx cap. His eyes were red and glaring with the lights
of the hunting wolf. His deep chest rose and fell in panting breaths.
Then he saw Jean and Philip, side by side. Toward them he came, as if
to crush them, and Philip sprang toward him, so that he was ahead of
Jean. Adare stopped. The wind rattled in his throat.

"And you came WITHOUT ME--"

His voice was a rumble, deep, tense, like the muttering vibration
before an explosion. Philip's hands gripped his arms, and those arms
were as hard as oak. In one hand Adare held a gun. His other fist was
knotted, heavy.

"Yes, Mon Pere, we came without you," said Philip. "It is terrible. We
did not want you two to suffer. We did not want you to know until it
was all over, and Josephine was back in your arms. We thought it drive
her mother mad. And you, Mon Pere, we wanted to save you!"

Adare's face relaxed. His arm dropped. His red eyes shifted to the
faces about him, and he said, as he looked:

"It was Breuil. He said you and Josephine were not at his cabin. He
came to tell Mignonne the child was so much better. I cornered
Metoosin, and he told me. I have been coming fast, running."

He drew in a deep breath. Then suddenly he became like a tiger. He
sprang among the men, and threw up his great arms. His voice rose more
than human, fierce and savage, above the growing tumult of the dogs and
the wailing of the wind.

"Ye are with me, men?"

A rumble of voice answered him.

"Then come!"

He had seen that they were ready, and he strode on ahead of them. He
was leader now, and Philip saw Father George close at his side,
clutching his arm, talking. In Jean's face there was a great fear. He
spoke low to Philip.

"If he meets Lang, if he fights face to face with Thoreau, or if they
call upon us to parley, all is lost! M'sieur, for the love of God, hold
your fire for those two! We must kill them. If a parley is granted,
they will come to us. We will kill them--even as they come toward us
with a white flag, if we must!"

"No truce will be granted!" cried Philip.

As if John Adare himself had heard his words, he stopped and faced
those behind him. They were in the shelter of the forest. In the gray
gloom of dawn they were only a sea of shifting shadows.

"Men, there is to be no mercy this day!" he said, and hi