ds in this new land, father.
Yes, I have a seigniory. That is, I own some barren acres near
Montreal that I can occupy only at risk of my scalp. As to the king, I
think he wishes me to trade,--at least I carry his license to that
effect. But what are my men doing?"

The Jesuit's thin old hands clutched each other. "They are turning
this place into a Sodom," he said passionately. "They are drinking and
carousing with the Indian women. You traders are our ruin. But we
will shut you out of the country yet. Mark my words. Those
twenty-five licenses will be revoked before the season ends, and you
will have to find other excuses to bring your rabble here to debauch
our missions."

In view of what I had just seen, I felt impatient. "You do my handful
of stolid peasants too much honor," I said dryly. "They would need
more wit and ingenuity than I have ever seen in them to be able to
teach outlawry to anything that they find here. But I am looking for
them now. You will pardon me if I hasten."

But his hand pulled at me. "Is one of your men lipped like a
bull-moose and red as Rufus?"

"Pierre Boudin to the life," I chuckled. "What deviltry is he at now?"

The priest's face lost its flame. He looked suddenly the old man worn
out in the service of a savage people. "He is with an Ottawa girl," he
said sadly; "a girl the Indians call Singing Arrow for her wit and her
laughter. She is not a convert, but she is a good girl. I wish you
would get your man away."

I felt shame for my man and myself. "I will go at once," I promised
soberly. "I will be westward bound by afternoon."

The old priest looked at me with friendly eyes. "There will be trouble
before sundown," he said gravely. "If you wish to get away, go
quickly, or you may not go at all. Now you must report to the
commandant."

But I had turned my face the other way. "Not till I have found
Pierre," I returned.

I had no summer stroll before me. Pierre, Anak that he was, was as
lost as a leaf in a whirlpool, and though I had quick eyes, and
shoulders that could force a passage for me in a crowd, I could see no
sign of his oriole crest of red head in all the bobbing multitude of
blackbirds. Instead I stumbled upon Cadillac.

He linked his arm in mine. "Do you know," he said abruptly, "the
prisoner has spirit and to spare. He may be a man of importance after
all."

I answered like a fool. "I think not. He is dressed like a yeoman."

C