was glad--for I was not yet strong--that Clark finished my
assailant: and so both lay there dead, two foes less of our good King.

Not far from where we stood was a pool of water, black and deep, and
we sank the bodies there; but I did not know till long afterwards that
Clark, with a barbarous and disgusting spirit, carried away their scalps
to sell them in New York, where they would bring, as he confided to one
of the Provincials, twelve pounds each. Before we left, we shot a poor
howling dog that mourned for his masters, and sank him also in the dark
pool.

We had but got back to our camp, when, looking out, we saw a well-manned
four-oared boat making for the shore. My men were in dismay until I told
them that, having begun the game of war, I would carry it on to the ripe
end. This boat and all therein should be mine. Safely hidden, we watched
the rowers draw in to shore, with brisk strokes, singing a quaint
farewell song of the voyageurs, called La Pauvre Mere, of which the
refrain is:

"And his mother says, 'My dear,
For your absence I shall grieve;
Come you home within the year.'"

They had evidently been upon a long voyage, and by their toiling we
could see their boat was deep loaded; but they drove on, like a horse
that, at the close of day, sees ahead the inn where he is to bait and
refresh, and, rousing to the spur, comes cheerily home. The figure of
a reverend old man was in the stern, and he sent them in to shore with
brisk words. Bump came the big shallop on the beach, and at that moment
I ordered my men to fire, but to aim wide, for I had another end in view
than killing.

We were exactly matched as to numbers, so that a fight would be fair
enough, but I hoped for peaceful conquest. As we fired I stepped out
of the thicket, and behind me could be seen the shining barrels of our
threatening muskets. The old gentleman stood up while his men cried for
quarter. He waved them down with an impatient gesture, and stepped out
on the beach. Then I recognized him. It was the Chevalier de la Darante.
I stepped towards him, my sword drawn.

"Monsieur the Chevalier de la Darante, you are my prisoner," said I.

He started, then recognized me. "Now, by the blood of man! now, by the
blood of man!" he said, and paused, dumfounded.

"You forget me, monsieur?" asked I.

"Forget you, monsieur?" said he. "As soon forget the devil at mass! But
I thought you dead by now, and--"

"If you are disappointed," said