Herouville, d'Halluys, and du Cevennes; and
they wonderingly followed him into the inclosure.

"Messieurs," began the major, "there must he no private quarrels here.
Men found with drawn swords shall be shot the following morning without
the benefit of court-martial."

"Monsieur!" exclaimed D'Herouville.

The Chevalier stamped restlessly, and the vicomte frowned.

"Have the patience to hear me through. There is ill-blood between you
three. The cause does not interest me, but here my word is law. The
safety of the mission depends wholly upon our order and harmony. The
savage is always quarreling, and he looks with awe upon the
tranquillity with which we go about our daily affairs. To maintain
this awe there must be no private quarrels. Digest this carefully.
Draw your weapons in a duel, just or unjust, and I promise to have you
shot."

"That appears to be final," remarked the vicomte. He was chagrined,
but it was not noticeable in his tones. "What industrious friend has
acquainted you with the state of affairs?"

"I was watching your actions last night," replied the major.

"And you saw the blow Monsieur du Cevennes struck me?" snarled
D'Herouville.

"When you arrive again in Quebec, Messieurs, you may fight as
frequently as you please; but here I am master. I am giving you this
warning in a friendly spirit, and I hope you will accept it as such.
Good evening."

"Bah!" The vicomte slapped his sword angrily; "how many more acts are
there to this comedy? Eh, well, Chevalier, let us go and play dominoes
with Monsieur Nicot."

"All this is strangely fortunate for you two gentlemen," said
D'Herouville, as they moved toward the fort.

"Or for you, Monsieur d'Herouville," the vicomte sent back.

Three days trickled through the waist of the glass of time. The
afternoon of the fourth day was sunless, and the warning of an autumn
storm spoke from the flying grey clouds and the buoyant wind which blew
steadily from the west. Madame and her companion sat upon the shore,
attracted by the combing swells as they sifted and shifted the yellow
sand, deadwood, and weed. Pallid greens and browns flashed hither and
thither over the tops of the whispering rushes; and from their deeps
the blackbird trilled a querulous note. A flock of crows sped noisily
along the shore, and a brace of loons winged toward the north in long
and graceful loops of speed, and the last yellow butterflies of the
year fluttered about