would be glad of an excuse, and Cassion's jealousy would
spur him on. Yet I must try, and, in truth, I trusted not so much in
Monsieur de Artigny's interest in me, as in his reckless love of
adventure. 'Twould please him to play an audacious trick on La Salle's
enemies, and make Cassion the butt of laughter.

Once he understood, the game would prove much to his liking, and I
could count on his aid, while the greater the danger the stronger it
would appeal to such a nature as his. Even though he cared little for
me he was a gallant to respond gladly to a maid in distress. Ay, if I
might once bring him word, I could rely on his response; but how could
that be done? I must trust fortune, attend the ball, and be ready;
there was no other choice.

'Tis strange how this vague plan heartened me, and gave new courage.
Scarce more than a dream, yet I dwelt upon it, imagining what I would
say, and how escape surveillance long enough to make my plea for
assistance. Today, as I write, it seems strange that I should ever
have dared such a project, yet at the time not a thought of its
immodesty ever assailed me. To my mind Rene de Artigny was no
stranger; as a memory he had lived, and been portion of my life for
three lonely years. To appeal to him now, to trust him, appeared the
most natural thing in the world. The desperation of my situation
obscured all else, and I turned to him as the only friend I knew in
time of need. And my confidence in his fidelity, his careless
audacity, brought instantly a measure of peace. I crept back and lay
down upon the bed. The tears dried upon my lashes, and I fell asleep
as quietly as a tired child.

CHAPTER III

I APPEAL FOR AID

It had been two years since I was at Quebec, and it was with new eyes
of appreciation that I watched the great bristling cliffs as our boat
glided silently past the shore and headed in toward the landing. There
were two ships anchored in the river, one a great war vessel with many
sailors hanging over the rail and watching us curiously. The streets
leading back from the water front were filled with a jostling throng,
while up the steep hillside beyond a constant stream of moving
figures, looking scarcely larger than ants, were ascending and
descending. We were in our large canoe, with five Indian paddlers, its
bow piled deep with bales of fur to be sold in the market, and I had
been sleeping in the stern. It was the sun which awoke me, and I sat
up close be