ng Frances Sutherland into
the scene--which is what I myself suspect--I refer to private judgment,
and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis
Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red
River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr.
Sutherland and myself came to be embarking with a camping outfit for a
canoe-trip down the river.

"Have the Indians passed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr.
Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving
the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little
Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman.

"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind,"
ordered Louis, winking at me significantly.

I saw Frances step to her father's canoe.

"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously.

"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I _am_
coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up
a paddle and I saw the canoe dart swiftly forward into mid-current,
where the darkness enveloped it; and we followed fast in its wake.

"Louis," said I, trying to fathom the meaning of his wink, "are those
Indians to come yet?"

"No. Simpleton--you think Louis a fool?" he asked.

"Why did you lie to them?"

"Get them out of the way."

"Why?"

"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he
have a wife--he not be killed! Mademoiselle--she love a poor fool--or
break her pretty heart! The father--he needed to stick-pin you both--so
you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the
purr of water on his paddle-blade.

"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally silent,
because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis
a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding past. May
this night put an end to your devil pranks!"

* * * * *

And that night did!

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES

I think, perhaps, the reason good enterprises fail so often where evil
ventures succeed, is that the good man blunders forward, trusting to the
merits of his cause, where the evil manipulator proceeds warily as a cat
over broken glass. And so, altogether apart from his services as guide,
I felt Louis Laplante's presence on the river a distinct advantage.

"T