good of her forces, this rallying
of volunteers in such chivalrous and unquestioning fashion--she found
herself unable to handle the situation in her thoughts or treat it with
spoken words just then. But the other--the human thing----

"It's--it's the honeymoon," she stammered. "It will be taking you away
from your wife."

"She's my girl," put in Nicola. "She tells him to go."

Father Leroque perceived Lida's distressful inability to pull herself
together at that moment, and he employed his ready tact, giving her time
for thought. "It's quite a natural thing, this taking away of the new
bridegroom for the service of the Flaggs," he declared with a chuckle.
"There's even a song--I think it was written by Poet O'Gorman. Do you
know it, Felix? I can see by your grin that you do. Very well. Let's
have it. As I remember it, it states the case according to the Flagg
methods."

Lapierre pulled off his cap; his eyes were alight with merriment; he
sang gayly:

The night that I was married--the night that I was wed--
Up there came old Echford Flagg and rapped on my bed head.
Said he, "Arise, young married man, and come along with me,
Where the waters of the Noda they do roar along so free."

"You see!" suggested the priest, archly, smiling, palms spread. "When
Flagg calls, the honeymoon must wait. It promises good adventure, and
Felix would be sorry if he were not in it."

Cap in hand, Lapierre swept his arm in a broad gesture of respectful
devotion. It was a touch of gallantry which raised the affair above the
prosaic details of mere business and which made the relations closer
than those of employer and employed.

In Lida gratitude was succeeding amazement, and the glow of that
gratitude was warming her courage into life again. When she had stepped
from Nicola's door a few moments before she felt bitterly alone and
helpless and she had no eye for the glory of the day. Suddenly the
sunshine seemed transcendently cheery. All the aspects of the case were
changed. Now she could go on to the drive as one of the Flaggs should
go--with loyal men at her back to replace those who had deserted. She
could hearten a broken crew with men, not merely with a strange girl's
plaintive story and appeal.

"We're ready, mam'selle," said Felix.

The women of the community were gathered in front of the sachem's house.

Lapierre went smiling to his bride and put his arm about her; but when
he started to draw her toward L