n prove no friend,"
was the reply.

The governor smiled. "You have a rare taste for challenge, monsieur.
To be frank, I will say your gift is more that of the soldier than the
envoy. But upon my soul, if you will permit me, I think no less of you
for that."

Then the door opened, and Morris brought in Radisson. The keen, sinister
eyes of the woodsman travelled from face to face, and then rested
savagely on Iberville. He scented trouble, and traced it to its source.
Iberville drew back to the window and, resting his arm on the high stool
where Jessica had sat, waited the event. Presently the governor came
over to him.

"You can understand," he said quietly, "that this man has been used by
my people, and that things may be said which--"

Iberville waved his hand respectfully. "I understand, your excellency,"
he said. "I will go." He went to the door.

The woodsman as he passed broke out: "There is the old saying of the
woods, 'It is mad for the young wolf to trail the old bear.'"

"That is so," rejoined Iberville, with excellent coolness, "if the wolf
holds not the spring of the trap."

In the outer room were two soldiers and the Scot. He nodded, passed into
the yard, and there he paced up and down. Once he saw Jessica's face
at a window, he was astonished to see how changed. It wore a grave, an
apprehensive look. He fell to wondering, but, even as he wondered, his
habit of observation made him take in every feature of the governor's
house and garden, so that he could have reproduced all as it was
mirrored in his eye. Presently he found himself again associating
Radisson's comrade with the vague terror in Jessica's face. At last he
saw the fellow come forth between two soldiers, and the woodsman turned
his head from side to side, showing his teeth like a wild beast at sight
of Iberville. His black brows twitched over his vicious eyes. "There are
many ways to hell, Monsieur Iberville," he said. "I will show you one.
Some day when you think you tread on a wisp of straw, it will be a snake
with the deadly tooth. You have made an outlaw--take care! When the
outlaw tires of the game, he winds it up quick. And some one pays for
the candles and the cards."

Iberville walked up to him. "Radisson," he said in a voice well
controlled, "you have always been an outlaw. In our native country you
were a traitor; in this, you are the traitor still. I am not sorry for
you, for you deserve not mercy. Prove me wrong. Go back to Q