--he must reach Fort St. Louis, and friends before Cassion could
bring him to trial. It was in my power to permit his escape from
discovery, mine alone. If I did otherwise I should be his murderer.

I sank down out of sight, yet my decision was made in an instant. It
did not seem to me then as though any other course could be taken.
That De Artigny was innocent I had no doubt. I loved him, this I no
longer denied to myself; and I could not possibly betray the man to
the mad vengeance of Cassion. I peered forth, across the ridge of
earth concealing me from observation, at the distant canoe. It was too
far away for me to be certain of its occupants, yet I assured myself
that Indians were at the paddles, while three others, whose dress
designated them as whites, occupied places in the boat. The craft kept
close to the shore, evidently searching for any sign of the lost
canoe, and the man in the stern stood up, pointing, and evidently
giving orders. There was that about the fellow's movements to convince
me he must be Cassion, and the very sight of him strengthened my
resolve.

I turned, and ran down the bank to where the fire yet glowed dully in
the hollow, emitting a faint spiral of blue smoke, dug dirt up with my
hands, and covered the coals, until they were completely extinguished.
Then I crept back to the bluff summit, and lay down to watch.

The canoe rounded the curve in the shore, and headed straight across
toward where I rested in concealment. Their course would keep them too
far away from the little strip of sand on which we had landed to
observe the imprint of our feet, or the pile of wood De Artigny had
flung down. I observed this with an intense feeling of relief, as I
peered cautiously out from my covert.

I could see now clearly the faces of those in the canoe--the dark,
expressionless countenances of the Indians, and the three white men,
all gazing intently at the shore line, as they swept past, a soldier
in the bow, and Pere Allouez and Cassion at the stern, the latter
standing, gripping the steering paddle. The sound of his rasping,
disagreeable voice reached me first.

"This is the spot," he exclaimed, pointing. "I saw that headland just
before the storm struck. But there is no wreck here, no sign of
landing. What is your judgment, Pere?"

"That further search is useless, Monsieur," answered the priest. "We
have covered the entire coast, and found no sign of any survivor; no
doubt they were all los