se, sniffed, and growled. Once more. It was a cry, human
and designed. It consisted of a prolonged call, followed by several
short yells. The old chief rose, and putting his hands to his mouth,
uttered a similar call. It was immediately answered; and a few minutes
later three Indians and two Jesuit priests pushed aside the bearskin
and entered the hut.

"Chaumonot!" exclaimed the Chevalier.

The kindly priest extended his hands, and the four white men
respectfully brushed them with their lips. It was a tribute less to
his office than to his appearance; for not one of them saw in his
coming aught else than a good presage and probable liberation.

Chaumonot was accompanied by Father Dablon, the Black Kettle,--now
famous among his Onondaga brothers as the one who had crossed the evil
waters, and two friendly Oneida chiefs. There ensued a prodigious
harangue; but at the close of it the smile on Chaumonot's face
signified that he had won his argument.

"You are free, my sons," he said. "It took some time to find you, but
there is nothing like perseverance in a good cause. At dawn you will
return with me to Onondaga. Monsieur," addressing the Chevalier; "and
how is the health of Monsieur le Marquis, your kind father?"

The smile died from the Chevalier's face. "Monsieur le Marquis is at
Quebec; I can not say as regards his health."

"In Quebec?"

"Yes, Father," Victor interposed.

"How did you know that we were here ?" asked the vicomte.

"Pauquet, in his wanderings, finally arrived at Onondaga two weeks ago.
Upon hearing his story I at once began a search. We are virtually at
peace with the Senecas and the Oneidas."

"And . . . the women?" inquired Victor, his heart's blood gushing to
his throat.

The two Jesuits solemnly shook their heads.

Victor laid his head against the Chevalier's arm to hide the bitter
tears.

"No sign?" asked the Chevalier calmly. All the joy of the rescue was
gone.

"None. They were taken by a roving band of Senecas, of whom nothing
has been heard. They are not at the Senecas' chief village."

However great the vicomte's disappointment may have been, his face
remained without any discernible emotion. But he turned to
D'Herouville, his tone free from banter and his dark eyes full of
menace:

"Monsieur le Comte, you and I shall soon straighten out our accounts."

"For my part, I would it were to-morrow. Our swords will be given back
to us. Take heed, Vicomte," h