lish girl I waked from
youth, I was born again into the world. I had no doubts, I have none
now."

"And the man?"

"One knows one's enemy even as the other. There is no way but this,
Dollier. He is the enemy of my king, and he is greatly in my debt.
Remember the Spaniards' country!"

He laid a hand upon his sword. The face of the priest was calm and
grave, but in his eyes was a deep fire. At heart he was a soldier, a
loyalist, a gentleman of France. Perhaps there came to him then the
dreams of his youth, before a thing happened which made him at last a
servant of the Church after he had been a soldier of the king.

Presently the song of the voyageurs grew less, the refrain softened and
passed down the long line, and, as it were, from out of far mists came
the muffled challenge:

"Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn."

Then a silence fell once more. But presently from out of the mists there
came, as it were, the echo of their challenge:

"Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn."

The paddles stilled in the water and a thrill ran through the line of
voyageurs--even Iberville and his friends were touched by it.

Then there suddenly emerged from the haze on their left, ahead of them,
a long canoe with tall figures in bow and stern, using paddles. They
wore long cloaks, and feathers waved from their heads. In the centre
of the canoe was what seemed a body under a pall, at its head and feet
small censers. The smell of the wood came to them, and a little trail of
sweet smoke was left behind as the canoe swiftly passed into the mist on
the other side and was gone.

It had been seen vaguely. No one spoke, no one challenged; it had come
and gone like a dream. What it was, no one, not even Iberville,
could guess, though he thought it a pilgrimage of burial, such as was
sometimes made by distinguished members of Indian tribes. Or it may
have been--which is likely--a dead priest being carried south by Indian
friends.

The impression left upon the party was, however, characteristic. There
was none but, with the smell of the censers in his nostrils, made the
sacred gesture; and had the Jesuit Silvy or the Abbe de Casson been so
disposed, the event might have been made into the supernatural.

After a time the mist cleared away, and nothing could be seen on the
path they had travelled but the plain of clear water and the distant
shore they had left.

Ahead of them was another shore, and they reached this at last. W