elligence he immediately repaired to the
Sarpy mansion and acquainted Zulma with it.

"I wonder who are the kind friends that have taken him in," said Zulma,
after lamenting this new danger that threatened her friend.

"Can't you guess?" asked Batoche, and his knowing smile went straight to
the heart of his companion.

"I hope that _you_ guess true."

"Be assured of it, but to clear away all doubts, I am resolved to find
my way into Quebec to-night. I have a plan that will succeed. The
deserter whom I met the other day has given me his uniform in exchange
for other clothing which will enable him to move about the country in
safety. I will disguise myself in this uniform. The Wolves will take me
for one of themselves. I will carry musket, knapsack, and all. If you
have any message or letters for your friends, prepare them at once. I
will carry them about me in such a manner that they shall not be
discovered, and I will safely deliver them. I have made up my mind to
get into the town to-night, and I will do it. I have a definite purpose
and it shall be accomplished. Captain Singleton is sick and I must see
him in person."

As Batoche spoke these words, his face was marked by a calm
determination which was proof against every obstacle, and there was an
expression of sadness besides, indicative of the concern which he felt
for the safety of Cary Singleton's life.

The old man was as good as his word. On returning to quarters, he donned
the disguise of the deserter, and, when the proper hour of the night
came, went off to reconnoitre under the walls. He travelled long and
wearily. Several times he was espied, or fancied he was espied, by the
sentinels on the rampart. Once he was fired upon. But at length by dint
of skill, courage, and perseverance, he managed to scale a parapet and
drop quietly into a dark street, just as the sentry, returning on his
beat, remained above him with glistening weapon. He crouched in a corner
to make sure that he had been unseen and unheard. Very provocatively,
the guard stood a considerable time gazing at nothing, but he stepped
forward finally, and Batoche slipped away. He went directly to the house
of M. Belmont, where, as his time was short, he would be best able to
get all the information that he wanted.

"I promised M. Belmont," he muttered to himself, "that I would not go
near his house again, but that was because I was a rebel. Now I am a
loyalist, a devoted servant of King Georg