ld of disgrace and
humiliation. Thus came Payan de Noyan with his garrison, prisoners
on _parole_, sent down by the victorious British to report the fall
of Frontenac and be exchanged for prisoners taken at Ticonderoga.

Already the Commandant and his men had surmised the truth, and were
hurrying back along the ridge to meet the unhappy procession at the
quay. John and Diane turned with them and walked homeward in
silence.

The flotilla passed slowly beneath their eyes, but did not head in
toward the quay. An old man in the leading boat waved an arm from
mid-stream--or rather, lifted it in salutation and let it fall again
dejectedly.

This was de Noyan himself, and apparently his _parole_ forbade him to
hold converse with his countrymen before reaching Montreal. On them
next, for aught the garrison of Fort Amitie could learn, the enemy
were even now descending.

Diane, halting on the slope, heard her father call across the water
to de Noyan, who turned, but shook his head and waved a hand once
more with a gesture of refusal.

"He was asking him to carry the dispatch to Montreal. Since he will
not, or cannot, you must follow with it."

"For form's sake," John agreed. "It can have no other purpose now."

They were standing at the verge of the forest, and she half turned
towards him with a little choking cry that asked, as plainly as
words, "Is this all you have to say? Are you blind, that you cannot
see how I suffer?"

He stepped back a pace into the shadow of the trees. She lifted her
head and, as their eyes met, drooped it again, faint with love.
He stretched out his arms.

"Diane!"

But as she ran to him he caught her by the shoulders and held her at
arms' length. Her eyes, seeking his, saw that his gaze travelled
past her and down the slope. And turning in his grasp she saw
Menehwehna running towards them across the clearing from the postern
gate, and crouching as he ran.

He must have seen them; for he came straight to where they stood, and
gripping John by the arm pointed towards the quay, visible beyond the
edge of the flagstaff tower.

"Who are these newcomers?" cried Diane, recovering herself.
"Why, yes, it is Father Launoy and Dominique Guyon! Yes, yes--and
Bateese!--whom you have never seen."

John turned to her quietly, without haste.

"Mademoiselle," said he in a voice low and firm, and not altogether
unhappy, "I have met Bateese Guyon before now. And these men bring
death to