The east turned to rose, then to red, and after that came the
shadows. The mellow voice of the priest was lifted in a solemn Latin hymn.
His song carried far over the darkening waters, and Paul, under its
influence, felt more deeply than ever the immense majesty of the scene.
Red light from the sunken sun still lingered over the longest of rivers,
but the shadows now covered all the eastern shore. Through the increasing
night the firelight on the little island twinkled like a beacon, but for
the time being, they were careless who saw it.

The hymn died away in a last long echo, the red light was wholly gone,
darkness was over everything, and they prepared for a long night of sleep.
The next morning they started together, the big boat and the little canoe.
Every one of the five offered to paddle the canoe for Father Montigny as
far as they were going together, but he smilingly declined.

"No," he said, "my good canoe and I have been closely associated too long
to be separated now, nor must I be spoiled. I see that you have put fresh
stores in the canoe, and I accept them. You have good hearts, as I knew
when I first saw you."

The five would not put up their sail while they were in company, and "The
Galleon" and the canoe drifted together until they reached the mouth of
the river up which the peaceful Indian village lay. There Father Montigny
gave them his blessing and bade them farewell. They held their own boat in
the current while they watched him paddle with strong arms up the
tributary stream. He stopped at the first curve, lifted his paddle in a
last salute, which they returned with their own lifted oars, and then he
passed out of sight.

"We may never see him again," said Paul--but Paul could not read the
future.

Then they set their sail, swung into the middle of the stream and swept
forward on their great journey. But the meeting with the priest had a
strong influence upon every one of them.

"He is sure to suffer a violent death some time or other," said Paul, "and
he knows it, but it never mikes him gloomy. There are other French priests
like him, too, boys, going thousands of miles, alone and unarmed, over
this vast continent."

"'Pears to me that we are wrong when we talk about the French bein'
dancin' masters an' sech like," said Shif'less Sol. "My father fit in the
great French war up thar along the Canady line an' in Canady, an' he says
the French wuz ez good fighters ez anybody. Besides, they took