h our Indians above the
falls."

"Madame," exclaimed Zelie, lifting the half-nude infant, and thrusting
it before her mistress with importunity which could wait no longer, "of
your kindness look at this little creature. With all my chafing and
sprinkling I cannot find any life in it. That girl hath let it die on
her knees, and hath not made it known!"

Klussman's glance rested on the body with that abashed hatred which a
man condemns in himself when its object is helpless.

"It is D'Aulnay's child," he muttered, as if stating abundant reason for
its taking off.

"I have brought an agent from D'Aulnay and D'Aulnay's child into our
fortress," said Madame La Tour, speaking toward Marguerite's silent
cover, under which the girl made no sign of being more than a hidden
animal. Her stern face traveled from mother back to tiny body.

There is nothing more touching than the emaciation of a baby. Its sunken
temples and evident cheekbones, the line of its jaw, the piteous parted
lips and thin neck were all reflected in Marie's eyes. Her entire figure
softened, and passionate motherhood filled her. She took the still
pliant shape from Zelie, held it in her hands, and finally pressed it
against her bosom. No sign of mourning came from the woman called its
mother.

"This baby is no enemy of ours," trembled Madame La Tour. "I will not
have it even reproached with being the child of our enemy. It is my
little dead lad come again to my bosom. How soft are his dear limbs! And
this child died for lack of loving while I went with empty arms! Have
you suffered, dear? It is all done now. Mother will give you
kisses,--kisses. Oh, baby,--baby!"

Klussman turned away, and Zelie whimpered. But Le Rossignol thrust her
head around the settle to see what manner of creature it was over which
Madame Marie sobbed aloud.

III.

FATHER ISAAC JOGUES.

The child abandoned by La Tour's enemy had been carried to the upper
floor, and the woman sent with a soldier's wife to the barracks; yet
Madame La Tour continued to walk the stone flags, feeling that small
skeleton on her bosom, and the pressure of death on the air.

Her Swiss lieutenant opened the door and uttered a call. Presently, with
a clatter of hoofs on the pavement, and a mighty rasping of the
half-tree which they dragged, in burst eight Sable Island ponies, shaggy
fellows, smaller than mastiffs, yet with large heads. The settles were
hastily cleared away for them, and they