r Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.

Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
Law.

"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised."

Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
and fled back into the cabin.

Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.

"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand."

"It is my home."

"But yet--why?"

"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,"
said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
and if he would forget."

"And this--that is to say--madam?"

Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.

"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might
nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes
tous sauvages_!'"

CHAPTER IX

THE DREAM

That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
with large and fr