good
landing place. Occasionally we went ashore earlier, and the Indians
hunted for wild game, usually with success. In all these days and
nights I had no glimpse of De Artigny, nor of his crew. It was not
possible for me to question Cassion, for to do so would have aroused
his jealous suspicion; but, as he never once referred to their
continued absence, I became convinced that it was his orders which
kept them ahead. No doubt it was best, as the men soon forgot the
tragedy of Hugo Chevet's death, and after the first day I do not
recall hearing the murder discussed.

Such deeds were not uncommon, and Chevet had made no friends to
cherish his memory. If others suspected De Artigny they felt little
resentment or desire to punish him--and doubtless the men had
quarreled, and the fatal knife thrust been delivered in fair fight.
The result interested them only slightly, and none regretted the loss
of the man killed.

We made no entrance into Green Bay, for there was nothing there but a
newly established mission station, and perhaps a hunter's camp,
scarcely worth our wasting two days in seeking. Besides the night we
made camp at a spot marked on the map as Point de Tour, we found
waiting us there the advance canoe, and both De Artigny and the chief
counseled that our course be south across the mouth of the bay. I sat
in my tent and watched them discuss the matter in the red glow of a
fire, but this was my only glimpse of De Artigny, until he led the way
the next morning.

Our voyage that day was a long one, and we were often beyond view of
land, although we skirted several islands. The lake was stirred by a
gentle breeze, yet not enough to delay our passage, and the sky above
was cloudless. The Indian chief took the steering paddle in one of our
boats, relieving Pere Allouez, and De Artigny guided us, his canoe a
mere black speck ahead. It was already dark when we finally attained
the rocky shore of Port de Morts.

When dawn came De Artigny and his crew had departed by order of
Cassion, but the chief remained to take charge of the third canoe. The
indifference the younger man had shown to my presence hurt me
strangely--he had made no effort to approach or address me; indeed, so
far as I was aware, had not so much as glanced in my direction. Did he
still resent my words, or was it his consciousness of guilt, which
held him thus aloof?

Not for a moment would I believe him wholly uninterested. There had
been that in h