his word Andre quickly smothered up the first with sand, and,
after waiting for the smoke to drift completely away, soon had a
second thread trailing out after the first. This was repeated again,
and the fire extinguished as before.

"There, my daughter! that is the manner in which we sometimes send
a message in this country, and the answer will be the appearance
of Maitre Gabriel himself by the morning."

We then withdrew to the shelter of the wood, for the smoothest sand
makes but a sorry bed, and made our camp for the night.

After our meal, le pere Jean bade Andre pile more drift-wood on
our fire, and, producing the little journal in which he kept the
brief record of his labours, as required by his Order, he fell to
writing.

"Here," he said, when he had finished, handing me the folded paper,
"is your letter to my good friend M. de Montcalm. It is not
over-long, as paper is much too precious to waste in compliments;
I have used so much, as it is, in fully explaining your position,
so that you may not be exposed to embarrassing inquiries; in
demanding his fullest assistance, so that you may be under the
lightest personal obligation, that I have left no space to set
forth your future movements; these you must yourself lay before
him, and so spare me the sacrifice of another page of my precious
journal."

The next morning, as the priest had foretold, we were awakened by
Andre's announcement of the pilot's arrival, and before long,
Gabriel Dufour was presented in due form. He was a stout, thick-set
man, much reddened by exposure, with his dark hair gathered into
a well-oiled pigtail, comfortably dressed in grey, home-spun jacket
and breeches, with bright blue stockings, and a short canvas apron,
like to the fishermen in France.

He at once expressed himself ready to take us to Quebec.

"What day have you chosen for your return, Gabriel?" asked le pere
Jean.

"Qui choisit, prend le pire, mon pere. All days are alike for me.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, I find much the same as Thursday,
Friday, Saturday. I can start to-day, to-morrow, or the day after
that, as madame may say."

"Then I shall speak for madame, and say to-day," returned the
priest; and added, in his quiet way: "I bid you beware of Master
Gabriel's fair words, madame. To quote from his favourite proverb,
'il est ne dimanche, il aime besogne faite,' he will promise you
anything."

"'Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut,' mon pere," he answered, laugh