ay.

And as soon as Claudis Beauvois was out of sight, Gabriel Chartrant
followed with his dozen French Puants, in feathers and buckskin, all
smeared with red and yellow ochre, well mounted and well armed. They
rode along until they reached the last path which turns off to the
river. At the end of that path, a mile away through the underbrush,
Paul and Jacques Le Page were stationed with a boat. The young men
with Gabriel dismounted and led their horses into the thicket to wait
for his signal.

The birds had begun to sing just after three o'clock that clear
morning, for Celeste lying awake heard them; and they were keeping
it up in the bushes. Gabriel leaned his feathered head over the road,
listening for hoof-falls and watching for the first puff of dust in
the direction of Prairie du Pont. The road was not as well trodden
as it is now, and a little ridge of weeds grew along the centre, high
enough to rake the stirrup of a horseman.

But in the distance, instead of the pat-a-pat of iron hoofs began a
sudden uproar of cries and wild whoops. Then a cloud of dust came in
earnest. Claudis Beauvois alone, without any hat, wild with fright,
was galloping towards Cahokia. Gabriel understood that something had
happened which ruined his own plan. He and his men sprung on their
horses and headed off the fugitive. The bridegroom who had passed that
way so lately with smiles, yelled and tried to wheel his horse into
the brush; but Gabriel caught his bridle and demanded to know what was
the matter. As soon as he heard the French tongue spoken he begged for
his life, and to know what more they required of him, since the rest
of their band had already taken his bride. They made him tell them the
facts. The real Puants had attacked the wedding procession before it
was out of sight of Prairie du Pont, and had scattered it and carried
off Celeste. He did not know what had become of anybody except
himself, after she was taken.

Gabriel gave his horse a cut which was like a kick to its rider.
He shot ahead, glad to pass what he had taken for a second body of
Indians, and Le Maudit Pensonneau hooted after him.

"The miserable coward. I wish I had taken his scalp. He makes me feel
a very good Puant indeed."

"Who cares what becomes of him?" said Gabriel. "It is Celeste that
we want. The real Puants have got ahead of us and kidnaped the bride.
Will any of you go with me?"

The poor fellow was white as ashes. Not a man needed to ask