ter, the purple of its flowing
mountains and the velvet blackness of its sweeping valleys; the
monotonous seething round the boring prow and the sad gurgle of the
speeding wake; the weird canvas shadows rearing heavenward; and above
all, that silence which engulfs all human noises simply by its
immensity! More than one stout heart grew doubtful and troubled under
the weight of this mystery.

Even the Iroquois Indian, born without fear, stoic, indifferent to
physical pain, even he wrapped his blanket closer about his head, held
his pipe pendent in nerveless fingers, and softly chanted an appeal to
the Okies of his forebears, forgetting the God of the black-robed
fathers in his fear of never again seeing the peaceful hills and
valleys of Onondaga or tasting the sweet waters of familiar springs.
For here was evil water, of which no man might drink to quench his
thirst; there were no firebrands to throw into the face of the North
Wind; there was no trail, to follow or to retrace. O for his mat by
the fire in the Long House, with the young braves and old warriors
sprawling around, recounting the victories of the hunt!

Only the seamen and the priests went about unconcerned, untroubled,
tranquil, the one knowing his sea and the other his God. There was
something reassuring in the serenity of the black cassocks as they went
hither and thither, offering physical and spiritual assistance. They
inspired the timid and the fearful, many of whom still believed that
the world had its falling-off place. And seasickness overcame many.

With some incertitude the Vicomte d'Halluys watched the Jesuits. After
all, he mused, it was something to be a priest, if only to possess this
calm. He himself had no liking for this voyage, since the woman he
loved was on the way to Spain. Whenever Brother Jacques passed under
the ship's lanterns, the vicomte stared keenly. What was there in this
handsome priest that stirred his antagonism? For the present there
seemed to be no solution. Eh, well, all this was a strange whim of
fate. Fortune had as many faces as Notre Dame has gargoyles. To bring
the Comte d'Herouville, himself, and the Chevalier du Cevennes together
on a voyage of hazard! He looked around to discover the whereabouts of
the count. He saw him leaning against a mast, his face calm, his
manner easy.

"There is danger in that calm; I must walk with care. My faith! but
the Chevalier will have his hands full one of these d