and it lifted
her heart with tenderness.

"My men," she said presently, "remember we are Hudson's Bays, and that
we have behind us the Great Company which punishes guilt and upholds
loyalty, and that we go to rescue a factor of the Company. Alloybeau and
McDonald go with me, flanking either side. You, Frith, take up position
a hundred yards inland to cover what retreat may happen. Wilson and
Brilliers stand at the canoe, and, M'sieus, keep hand at prow ready for
instant action. We know not what may happen. I, who am most concerned,
go first. You, Marc Dupre, go with me."

Her voice dropped as it ever did of late when she spoke to this good
friend.

"And now we wait only for full darkness."

"You must go, Ma'amselle?" said Alloybeau miserably. "Cannot another
make the first scouting? Send me."

"And me!" Frith pushed softly forward. "At the last, Ma'amselle, we are
old women. We cannot let you go."

"Cannot?" said Maren sharply. "Do Mr. Mowbray's men so soon forget his
orders? I am good as a man, M'sieus. See!"

She held up her right arm, with the fringed sleeve falling loose. The
muscle sprang up magnificently.

"Fear not for me,--and yet,--I thank you! Now we wait."

One hour,--two,--passed and the last light crept, afraid, out of the
forest to linger a trembling moment on the waters and be drawn up to the
darkening sky.

At last the maid arose, tall and quiet, save for the excitement in her
eyes, and one by one her chosen followers stepped noiselessly after.

Silent as the wood around, the forlorn hope crept forward.

"Here, Frith," commanded Maren, when they had reached a vantage point
of higher ground, "and here you, Alloybeau and McDonald, separate. If
during this night the good God shall deliver into our hands Mr. McElroy
and the venturer from Montreal, you will hear a panther's far-off call.
Make for the canoe, for that will mean swift flight. If, on the other
hand, aught should befall us ahead, a night-hawk will cry once. Hide and
wait. Wait one day, two, three. There is always hope. So. We go now."

Thus they separated, that small band, as hopeless together as apart in
case of discovery, and at last Dupre followed alone, his heart heavy
within him and a grip in his throat of tears. On through the leafy
forest, parting the lacing vines, holding each branch that it might not
swish to place, they went, far from safety and the commonplace of life,
and a prescience of disaster weighed on the trapper'