h his brother M. Etienne and his daughter Mademoiselle
Diane, had descended to the quay to welcome the _voyageurs_.
A little apart stood Sergeant Bedard, old Jeremie Tripier (formerly
major-domo and general factotum at Boisveyrac, now at Fort Amitie
promoted to be _marechal des logis_), and five or six militiamen.
And to John, as he neared the shore in the haze of a golden evening,
the scene and the figures--the trim little stone fortress, the white
banner of France transparent against the sky, the sentry like a toy
figure at the gate, the cattle browsing below, the group at the
river's brink--appeared as a tableau set for a child's play.

To add to the illusion, as the canoe came to the quay the sun sank, a
gun boomed out from the tallest of the four towers, and the flag ran
down its staff; all as if by clockwork. As if by clockwork, too, the
taller of the two old gentlemen on the quay--the one in a gold-laced
coat--stepped forward with a wave of his hand.

"Welcome, welcome, my good Dominique! It will be news you bring from
Boisveyrac--more news of the great victory, perhaps? And who are
these your comrades?"

"Your servant, Monseigneur; and yours, Monsieur Etienne, and yours,
Mademoiselle Diane!" Dominique brought his canoe alongside and
saluted respectfully. "All my own news is that we have gathered the
harvest at Boisveyrac; a crop not far below the average, we hope.
But Father Launoy desired me to bring you these strangers, who will
tell of matters more important."

"It is the wounded man--the sergeant from Fort Carillon!" cried
Diane, clasping her hands.

"Eh, my child? Nonsense, nonsense--he wears no uniform, as you see.
Moreover, 'Polyte Latulippe brought word that he was lying at the
point of death."

"It is he, nevertheless."

"Mademoiselle has guessed rightly," said Dominique. "It is the
wounded soldier. I have lent him an outfit."

The Commandant stared incredulously from Dominique to John, from John
to Menehwehna, and back again to John. A delightful smile irradiated
his face.

"Then you bring us a good gift indeed! Welcome, sir, welcome to Fort
Amitie! where we will soon have you hale and strong again, if nursing
can do it."

Here, if John meant to play his part, was the moment for him to
salute. He half lifted his hand as he reclined, but let it fall
again. From the river-bank a pair of eyes looked down into his; dark
grey eyes--or were they violet?--shy and yet bold, dim and ye