him where
he was going, but they all answered in a breath and dashed after him.
They broke directly through the thicket on the opposite side of the
road, and came out into the tall prairie grass. They knew every path,
marais, and rigole for miles around, and took their course eastward,
correctly judging that the Indians would follow the line of the bluffs
and go north. Splash went their horses among the reeds of sloughs and
across sluggish creeks, and by this short cut they soon came on the
fresh trail.

At Falling Spring they made a halt to rest the horses a few minutes,
and wash the red and yellow paint off their hands and faces; then
galloped on along the rocky bluffs up the Bottom lands. But after a
few miles they saw they had lost the trail. Closely scouting in every
direction, they had to go back to Falling Spring, and there at last
they found that the Indians had left the Bottom and by a winding path
among rocks ascended to the uplands. Much time was lost. They had
heard, while they galloped, the church bell tolling alarm in Cahokia,
and they knew how the excitable inhabitants were running together
at Beauvois' story, the women weeping and the men arming themselves,
calling a council, and loading with contempt a runaway bridegroom.

Gabriel and his men, with their faces set north, hardly glanced
aside to see the river shining along its distant bed. But one of them
thought of saying,--

"Paul and Jacques will have a long wait with the boat."

The sun passed over their heads, and sunk hour by hour, and set. The
western sky was red; and night began to close in, and still they urged
their tired horses on. There would be a moon a little past its full,
and they counted on its light when it should rise.

The trail of the Puants descended to the Bottom again at the head of
the Grand Marais. There was heavy timber here. The night shadow of
trees and rocks covered them, and they began to move more cautiously,
for all signs pointed to a camp. And sure enough, when they had passed
an abutment of the ridge, far off through the woods they saw a fire.

My son (mon Oncle Mathieu would say at this point of the story), will
you do me the favor to bring me a coal for my pipe?

(The coal being brought in haste, he put it into the bowl with his
finger and thumb, and seemed to doze while he drew at the stem. The
smoke puffed deliberately from his lips, while all the time that
mysterious fire was burning in the woods for my imp