rigate
by a shot to bring to, but we came on gallantly. Another shot whizzed
by at a distance, but we did not change our course, and then balls came
flying over our heads, dropping round us, cooling their hot protests in
the river. But none struck us, and presently all fell short.

We durst not slacken pace that night, and by morning, much exhausted,
we deemed ourselves safe, and rested for a while, making a hearty
breakfast, though a sombre shadow had settled on the face of the
good Chevalier. Once more he ventured to protest, but I told him my
resolution was fixed, and that I would at all costs secure escape from
my six years' misery. He must abide the fortune of this war.

For several days we fared on, without more mishap. At last, one morning,
we hugged the shore, I saw a large boat lying on the beach. On landing
we found the boat of excellent size, and made for swift going, and
presently Clark discovered the oars. Then I turned to the Chevalier,
who was watching me curiously, yet hiding anxiety, for he had upheld his
dignity with some accent since he had come into my service:

"Chevalier," said I, "you shall find me more humane than my persecutors
at Quebec. I will not hinder your going, if you will engage on your
honour--as would, for instance, the Duc de Mirepoix!"--he bowed to my
veiled irony--"that you will not divulge what brought you back thus far,
till you shall reach your Kamaraska Isles; and you must undertake the
same for your fellows here."

He consented, and I admired the fine, vain old man, and lamented that I
had had to use him so.

"Then," said I, "you may depart with your shallop. Your mast and sail,
however, must be ours; and for these I will pay. I will also pay for the
wheat which was thrown into the river, and you shall have a share of our
provisions, got from the Indians."

"Monsieur," said he, "I shall remember with pride that I have dealt with
so fair a foe. I can not regret the pleasure of your acquaintance, even
at the price. And see, monsieur, I do not think you the criminal they
have made you out, and so I will tell a lady--"

I raised my hand at him, for I saw that he knew something, and Mr.
Stevens was near us at the time.

"Chevalier," said I, drawing him aside, "if, as you say, you think I
have used you honourably, then, if trouble falls upon my wife before I
see her again, I beg you to stand her friend. In the sad fortunes of war
and hate of me, she may need a friend--even a