lour of your eyes.
Wake up--it is nothing."

Presently the girl did open her eyes. He put the drinking-horn again to
her lips. She shuddered and took a sip, and then, invigorated, suddenly
drew away from him. "There, there," he said; "it is all right. Now for
my poor Iberville." He took Iberville's head to his knee and thrust the
drinking-horn between his teeth, as he had done with Jessica, calling
him in much the same fashion. Iberville came to with a start. For
a moment he stared blindly at his rescuer, then a glad intelligence
flashed into his eyes.

"Perrot! dear Nick Perrot!" he cried. "Oh, good--good," he added softly.
Then with sudden anxiety:

"Where is she? Where is she?"

"I am safe, monsieur," Jessica said gently; "but you--you are wounded."
She came over and dropped on her knees beside him.

"A little," he said; "only a little. You cared for her first?" he asked
of Perrot.

Perrot chuckled. "These Le Moynes!" he said: under his breath. Then
aloud: "The lady first, monsieur."

"So," answered Iberville. "And Bucklaw--the devil, Bucklaw?"

"If you mean the rogue who gave you these," said Perrot, touching the
wounds, which he had already begun to bind, "I think he got away--the
light was bad."

Jessica would have torn her frock for a bandage, but Perrot said in his
broken English: "No, pardon. Not so. The cloak la-bas."

She ran and brought it to him. As she did so Perrot glanced down at her
feet, and then, with a touch of humour, said: "Pardon, but you have lost
your slipper, ma'm'selle?"

He foresaw the little comedy, which he could enjoy even in such painful
circumstances.

"It must have dropped off," said Jessica, blushing. "But it does not
matter."

Iberville blushed too, but a smile also flitted across his lips. "If
you will but put your hand into my waistcoat here," he said to her, "you
will find it." Timidly she did as she was bid, drew forth the slipper,
and put it on.

"You see," said Iberville, still faint from loss of blood, "a Frenchman
can fight and hunt too--hunt the slipper."

Suddenly a look of pain crossed her face.

"Mr. Gering, you--you did not kill him?" she asked. "Oh no,
mademoiselle," said Iberville; "you stopped the game again."

Presently he told her what had happened, and how Gering was rousing the
town. Then he insisted upon getting on his feet, that they might make
their way to the governor's house. Stanchly he struggled on, his
weight upon Perrot, till presen